Down the Rabbit Hole
by Twiddlestonia
Summary: Loki and Thor are required to be married/engaged before being considered for the throne in a few years and must pick their choices now. Unfortunately Loki is distracted by the Mad Hatter - a masked thief, elusive to even the King's Spy Master - and a rising rebellion.
1. 1 - Loki

Warning: Loki x Amora sex in chapter 3, 8, 10, 11, 16, 18, 22, 26, 30 and possibly more

Other warnings: sexual content, domestic abuse, profanity, minor violence… heavy plot. See profile for more information.

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Chapter 1: Loki

Slamming the book shut to show aggression is not very effective. Slamming the book against his brother's blond head to shut him up would be more effective—if he would not get in trouble for it. Being as he is an adult, and a prince of Asgard, this would end up being most ineffective for Loki. Across the small room, a supposedly safe haven branching off from the library, Thor is sprawled across a couch, yammering about their latest adventure as if Loki hadn't been there. Though Loki's magic is brought up from time to time, he notices how Thor simply brushes over the topic, choosing to instead lay compliment to the strength of the warriors three and lady Sif.

Sometimes he wonders how thick that blond hair really is for Thor to be so dense about who really won the battle against a small—very small—uprising on the outskirts of Vanaheim. Thor rants on and on about how the warriors three and Lady Sif did in battle, not really mentioning the work of either prince.

Loki could care less about Thor's friends, he is more interested in his new book. It was a small spoil of war that was rightfully his. And not simply because he was the only one in the group who bothered to learn anything useful about magic.

The book, however, is not proving as useful as he hoped. The hedgemage had used a water spell that Loki had never seen before. He had pulled H2O molecules straight out of the air. Something considerably uncommon—rare even—which is why Loki kept him alive. The hedgemage currently is rotting down in the dungeons. Loki is working on calming himself down before visiting the hedgemage, or else his fate will be worse than rotting. The book explains only the most basic of magic, and nothing like the rarity the hedgemage displayed.

Unfortunately, Thor's incessant chattering is making it hard to calm down. Especially since the blond is now looking at Loki expectantly.

"I'm reading Thor," Loki states, looking pointedly at his brother.

"I know. I asked if you found what you are searching for yet," Thor repeats.

"No and you're not helping," Loki states, only for Thor to laugh.

"You know I can't stand silence. You've always done a good job pretending to listen as I ramble. I just want to make sure my brother found his reward," Thor laughs.

"I'll find it faster with you gone," Loki points out.

"But then you'll never tell me!" Thor whines.

"Why should you even care that I have my reward? You obviously care more for your friends than your brother," Loki instantly regrets saying so when the pain flitters across Thor's face. He said it though, so he'll stand by it. Especially because it commonly gets Thor to leave.

"If that's all you hear, you certainly have missed my point," Thor sighs as he gets up. "You obviously don't want me around anymore. When you find your reward, throw it at me like you did as kids."

"We're adults, Thor," Loki states as his brother lightly grabs his shoulder, squeezes reassuringly, and walks out. Loki thanks the Norns that Thor is gone and goes back to his book. Only the silence helps no more than Thor's rambling.

Loki does the only thing he can at this point, since he is getting answers nowhere else. He pushes his couch from the wall and jumps into one of the secret passage ways that line the castle. This one leads beyond the castle, to the prison.

He marches down the alley between cells, ignoring the jests from the prisoners. Some are thieves from the cities in Asgard. Others are barbaric outlanders. He finally finds a cell with four people in it. The hedgemage and three others that Loki has spared over the years.

"You here to play your mind games, princeling?" one asks.

"Need another target to practice magic with?" another taunts.

"Hedgemage Bravossi," Loki ignores them. The auburn haired, Vanaheim man was napping on one of the beds. He rolls over when Loki calls his name. He doesn't even bother to get up.

"I'd apologize for my inability to bow, but the wound your Grimm man left me has left me unable to move much," Bravossi says.

"At least you can speak well enough," Loki concedes. Those cold blue eyes meet patient green ones as Loki looks him over.

"Well? How can I be assistance, your grace?" Bravossi gets tired of waiting.

"Where did you learn to pull water out of the air?" Loki flat out asks. Bravossi's eyes go wide for a moment, before he throws back his head in laughter.

"Why would you want to learn that? You're one of the most powerful magicians living. Wouldn't it be below you?" Bravossi asks.

"I am the most powerful," Loki chides.

"Keep telling yourself that, dear vain prince," Bravossi shakes his head.

"Regardless of what you believe, I am also a collector of rare magic, be it spells or items. Perhaps that is the reason why I am so powerful," Loki threatens. Bravossi just raises an eyebrow.

"Have you been hit by the Mad Hatter?" Bravossi asks.

"Who?" Loki returns.

"The Mad Hatter?" Bravossi asks. Loki impatiently waits for him to explain. "She leaves messages before stealing things. They're not always magical items. If you really have that impressive of a collection, she would have stolen something from you by now. It's why she is a far better magician than you."

"Your little thief obviously isn't as good as you think," Loki counters, though harsher than he meant. But his pride refuses to let the hedgemage go unpunished.

"The Mad Hatter?" a cellmate asks. "Are you talking about that crazy woman who never wears the same outfit twice? Doesn't she wear a mask?"

"So you've heard about her, Kendrall?" Bravossi asks.

"If you get marked by her, just give up," Kendrall chuckles. "That woman is as insane as she is talented. They say her mark is a scribbled out heart."

"No, it's a sword through a skull," the third person says. The fourth laughs. "What's so funny, Dragga?"

"You aren't even close Som," Dragga replies. "It's a needle through a purple petal. I saw it when I fought her. One time, she stole a family heirloom from a place I was hired to protect when they got her letter. Nobles are all the same. When something threatens them, even if… The Mad Hatter threatened to steal the _illness_ from Lord Rayegh's daughter. I was also there when that happened. So he hired a bunch of us mercenaries to protect her. The Mad Hatter came and Lady Marella is very much alive and healthy… Did you learn the trick the princeling wants to know from her, Bravossi?"

"Couldn't of, she's a ghost! She's only a phantom!" Som scolds.

"You must be talking about how she can phase through anything," Bravossi suggests. "And yes, I learned from her." He waves a hand above him and a ball of water swirls into existence. Loki examines him, watching. "I've seen that look from enough people, your grace. You want to know how I did this."

"It doesn't appear worth my time," Loki's pride gets in the way of his curiosity.

"No, I doubt it would be. Since you know all about Soul Magic," Bravossi agrees. He knows he's got the prince's attention when Loki's intrigued expression gets even odder.

"What's Soul Magic?" Dragga asks.

"While anyone of the Asgardian or Elven blood can manipulate the magic of the world around us, most species have a unique magic on the individual level. A Soul Spell, essentially," Bravossi explains.

"It's an ancient myth, a legend really. Nonsense wet nurses tell children so they will go to bed," Loki interrupts.

"Regardless of what you believe, you can't explain this or else you wouldn't have bothered asking," Bravossi points out. Loki glares darkly at him. "Have I spoken out of term? Is this when I apologize? I wasn't raised a noble, so I have no idea how to truly speak to a prince."

"Your mocking has gone far enough. Get rid of that or you shall get a lashing from my favorite whip," Loki threatens. Bravossi evaporates his water sphere. "Next time, only the truth."

"Why not now? Try the left side of the ancient wing of your library, fourth shelf up. If you haven't rearranged, there should be an old scroll. You'll be in the section for all sorts of Soul Magic, though none of it is labeled."

"I said no nonsense," Loki sneers. Silence follows as he walks away.

"You must have a death wish, his favorite whip is studded leather, with pain enhancing spells sewn in it," Som informs Bravossi.

* * *

After dinner, Loki, against his better judgment, finds himself on the left side of the ancient wing of the library. He walks along the stone shelves, impatiently wondering if he is in the correct row. Bravossi had said fourth shelf, and Loki is gently looking through the third, fourth and fifth shelves. After an hour, he is about to give up, he finds a scroll with a broken seal. If whole, it would be a petal with a needle going through it, in lavender wax.

Gently he picks it up and carries it to the light. He gently presses it flat and reads it. The more he reads the more stupid he feels. It's just a recipe for a cake. Angrily he picks it up and is tempted to burn it on the candle. Surely no one would miss it.

Holding it near the heat, faint swirls appear on the paper. Heat generated ink. He readjusts, so it won't burn, and reads. It takes all of his self-control not to throw it in the fire as he realizes its porn.

"_I command you show me your secrets_," Loki throws the spell at the paper. All of the ink swirls into the center only to form the picture of the cake. The fact that there is magic in the parchment and it is responding is the only thing stopping him from destroying it in a glorious fire.

That doesn't stop his anger, however. He has Bravossi brought to his private chambers. He waits in his magic practice room as a guard brings the hedgemage. Loki is cleaning the studs on his whip as Bravossi steps in and looks around the sparsely decorated room. A desk and chair with old books, magic weapons on a rack, the bloodstained couch Loki is sitting on. The guard attaches his chained wrists to a chain hanging from the ceiling. He leaves after being dismissed.

One look and Loki knows Bravossi knows Loki found the scroll.

"Any last words?" Loki growls angrily.

"Did you turn it over?" Bravossi asks.

"What?" Loki asks angrily.

"I'd bow, but I'm kind of chained," Bravossi says. "You know, to grovel and plead forgiveness. But since I can't do that, I suppose I should offer you help. You found a Soul Scroll written by the Mad Hatter. She has quite the sweet tooth, so she writes a recipe to cover the parchment. Underneath, if you use heat, it exposes the real spell."

"Pornography isn't magic," Loki hisses as he stands and threateningly walks to him as the hedgemage keeps talking.

"Of course it is. But the spell you are looking for is on the back. She likes to be secretive, but simple. She hides her stuff, sure, but she hides it in plain sight. Just like you lie with the truth," that stops Loki and Bravossi silently thanks the Norns.

"The front…" Loki thinks it over.

"Is just a distraction," Bravossi states.

"The back…" Loki questions.

"Is plain sight," Bravossi says.

Loki steps around the hedgemage to his table. He lights a candle, summons the parchment he found, and holds it over the flame. He glares at Bravossi, who is watching him—silently threatening if this is some sort of trick Bravossi will regret it. Loki turns over the paper.

His emerald eyes widen as in the tiniest penmanship Soul Magic is explained. The delight of finally finding what he has been looking for placates his anger. He puts the parchment down and turns to Bravossi. He sulks over like a cat approaching its prey and can see the fear building behind sunken blue eyes.

"So, Soul Magic isn't as ancient as the Norns would have us believe," Loki's silky voice sends a terrifying shiver down Bravossi's spine. "But there must be a cost. Being able to use personal magic instead of what is around us. What is it?"

"There isn't—ah!" Bravossi screams as the whip lashes across his back, tearing his shirt in half. He had forgotten Loki was holding it.

"Don't lie to me, boy. I am known as the master of lies, of mischief. If you think your precious Hatter will—" Loki monologues.

"_Mad Hatter_," Bravossi corrects and gets another lashing.

"—come steal you away from my wrath, you are sorely mistaken," Loki continues as if there was no interruption at all. "Also, you will not speak unless spoken to. Understood?"

"Yes your grace," Bravossi says around the pain. Loki steps around him, examining him like he really is prey. His hand finds the wound.

"Pity you let yourself get hurt by Hogun," Loki chides. "I can't have all the fun I want with you until you heal."

"Fun?" Bravossi asks and the whip crosses against his legs.

"You will always address me with 'your grace', boy. Is that understood?" Loki threatens.

"Yes your grace," Bravossi immediately replies.

"This can only last so long with you in this condition, and I'm afraid overlooking your thief's simplicity caused me undue trouble and anger. I must find other ways to diffuse it," Loki sighs.

"You could just fuck me… your grace," Bravossi offers flatly, almost forgetting to use the title. Loki looks at him with a mix of amusement and temptation.

"Unfortunately I've already made arrangements with someone else," Loki admits. "And, when it comes to people who don't matter—you—I tend to accidentally use them far more than their bodies are intended to be used. It would only make your wounds worse."

"I suppose I should thank you for the generosity," Bravossi states, and hisses as the whip lashes against his legs again. "Your grace."

"Better," Loki agrees.

"I feel like you're trying to groom me to be your servant," Bravossi chides. Loki thinks it over for a moment.

"A pet, perhaps," Loki admits.

"I get to be a prince's pet?" Bravossi asks excitedly.

"Learning from someone is far less complex than from a scroll," Loki admits. "And you'll know the Mad Hatter's ways. So I don't have to unnecessarily waste energy."

"I could certainly help you with that, your grace," Bravossi says excitedly. He screams as the whip lashing his legs surprises him. "What was that for?!"

"You still haven't learned only to speak unless spoken to," Loki sighs and lashes him again.


	2. 2 - The Mad Hatter

Thanks for the reviews: BohemianRhapsody1986

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Lord Kvasir, Odin's Spy Master, keeps books on most everyone who has been arrested. The hardest part about obtaining books from him is that he is very strict on who he lends them to and their reasons. Loki has difficulty coming up with a reason that would sate the man, were he to ask for a book on the Mad Hatter.

He spent the majority of last night searching his memory and some not-so-strictly-kept books about thievery. He even scoured the rest of the ancient wing of the library, and made a pleasant discovery of a handful of scrolls, and a torn book, all with her symbol on it.

Loki discovered she is a petty thief; at first glance, someone far below his gaze. The only reason why Loki would rather not tell Lord Kvasir about Bravossi's connection to the Mad Hatter is that he has yet to pick the hedgemage's mind about a few questions the scrolls he found brings up. Lord Kvasir would likely take the hedgemage away.

Loki sits in on Odin's war council, like he is required to. Physically, he is there. But his mind is attempting to unravel his little riddle. After a full two hours of nonsense, a messenger rushes in and issues a private message to the King's Spy Master.

The old man hurriedly rushes out, strong blue eyes slightly panicked. Thankful for the curiosity, Loki sends an invisible clone to listen in. He is highly disappointed when the messenger simply hands over something, instead of saying what the issue is. The Spy Master returns and asks for a private word with the Allfather and the head of the guardsmen. Odin dismisses everyone but them, allowing his sons to stay as well.

"Lord Kvasir, I have been patient with you. This has gone on long enough. Please inform us all of the situation," Odin solemnly instructs.

"There is a new thief—" Kvasir starts.

"Why did the messenger not come for me?" the leader of the Guardsmen, Froseti.

"Because my network has been tracking them for the last decade," Kvasir counters. "This is a unique thief. You see, she always leaves these notes." He holds out a very elegantly written note, announcing that _The Mad Hatter_ will steal '_necklace of time_' from its display in the First Museum at dusk tonight. This is the most important thing she has gone after yet. In the bottom right corner is a lavender petal with a needle stabbing it.

"Are you sure it's a woman?" Thor asks.

"Have my men guard the museum," Froseti demands.

"I have already issued the order," Kvasir states, then turns to Thor. "I cannot honestly answer yes for that. You see, the few times I have had the opportunity to get close to her, it has always been a woman. We know she can take on many forms and is a master of magic."

"If you are unsure of the gender, how are can you be sure it is one person?" Froseti counters.

"Even that is up for debate, among men who have not dealt directly with her," Kvasir says coolly. "Every time I have had the opportunity to meet the person leaving these notes, I am absolutely certain it is the same person, though there is a strong magic there."

"A magic strong enough to disturb your gift?" Odin asks. Lord Kvasir can see the history of an object or person, just by touching them.

"At times," Kvasir admits. "Only when I get a direct look at the magic runes she has on her wrists does my gift truly work. And even then, it is hazy. She uses a very unusual magic."

"Would you know what kind of runes? Perhaps you would be able to draw them or recognize them if you saw them in a book?" Loki asks.

"Unfortunately I am not the master of magic you are. All I know about them is she uses them somehow and then her weapons are summoned," Kvasir replies.

"What type of weapons?" Thor asks.

"A bow with magic bolts, and a chain," Kvasir says. "It's like this glob of gold energy that she can form into whatever she likes."

"Perhaps my sons should assist with the event tonight," Odin informs.

"Their presence would be greatly appreciated, especially with how unique this target is," Kvasir says thankfully. As they continue, Loki tries to think of weapons and magic like hers, and of what the runes might be. He gets his chance after the meeting to do research, until Thor drags him off to the museum at the opposite end of the great city.

"Did you find anything?" Thor asks as they wait outside with the guardsmen.

"I may have magic but I am not a miracle worker. How am I supposed to find what I do not know what I am looking for?" Loki teases.

"Ah, there you are," Kvasir greets the princes.

"How do these things usually work?" Loki beats Thor to the punch.

"We normally receive a note prior, like we did. I have had my men stalking this place, scouring it from top to bottom, not letting anyone in. We may go in now," Kvasir leads them in, giving multiple guardsmen passwords on the way in.

"Are codes necessary?" Thor asks.

"When we first started dealing with her, she would simply take the guise of one of my men, or me, and walk straight in," Kvasir admits, earning a laugh. Loki is more interested in the sapphire necklace in the glass display. The necklace it rests in has an intricate design, with three layers of silver chains.

"Why did you take this case? Certainly a thief like this is too petty for the great Spy Master," Loki manipulates.

"Because in twenty years, she has struck almost 250 times, stealing almost half a million gold pieces worth of items. We think we have found cases of earlier, but are not fully certain yet. Her tastes are somewhat odd," Kvasir admits. "Her cases were getting more expensive, and public. It was decided I would step in to stop the common folk from finding out."

"But you haven't been able to capture her? Certainly she has repeated her methods," Loki points out.

"She has, but always manages to change something. In here, she would normally come in through a high window and use the rafters, so I have my men in those areas. Which means she is less likely to try that. I have tried not to spread them too thin over the rest of her points of entry: walking straight in, using a side door, phasing through the roof. There is only so much we can do to prepare," Kvasir answers.

"Do you have a book of information on her I could read?" Loki asks, happy his chance has fallen into his lap.

"Two and a half," Kvasir states, surprising them. "I shall have them copied and sent to your chambers before the week is over. If you wish to read them before, you are welcome to stop by my library and peruse them."

"Understood," Loki says, knowing there is more to this woman than he is being told.

"Where was the note left?" Thor asks.

"On the display case," Kvasir replies.

"Is that the real one?" Thor asks, pointing.

"Yes," Loki replies as he magically checks.

"We've already had experts check it," Kvasir agrees. "Thank you for reaffirming this, your grace."

"And what are we to help with here?" Thor asks.

"The Allfather thought this would be a chance for you two to work with me, and learn how my network works. It will be important for the future king to understand his spy network," Kvasir informs.

"Wise words," Thor states. "I thank you for this opportunity, Lord Kvasir."

"The honor is mine, your grace," Kvasir replies. "I truly appreciate your help."

"My brother and I will give our best efforts in this, don't you worry," Thor looks at Loki, only to see Loki still staring at the necklace. "Does something trouble you brother?"

"You said she can phase through things, Lord Kvasir?" Loki asks.

"Yes," Kvasir replies.

"Anything?" Loki asks.

"Everything," Kvasir states.

"This isn't my area of expertise, but… I think someone is _in_ the pedestal," Loki states, as if confused by his own words as the others are.

"But it's solid stone!" Kvasir replies, shocked silent like the others when a gloved, opaque hand pops up from under the necklace and snatches it.

"She's under us!" Loki announces, using magic to track her.

"Brother, take us down!" Thor orders. Loki teleports the three of them into the basement, where they come face to face with over sized rats who immediately attack. Thor and Kvasir fight them as Loki abandons them to teleport-tackle the woman.

He appears, throwing a punch that glances off her arm. She skids to a stop, turning to him, and kicks him back. He teleports behind her and attempts to grab her by wrapping both arms around her. She rolls forward, sliding through his grasp, and kicks back. Her boots make contact with his chest, slamming him against the wall.

"Having fun yet?" she asks. Loki instantly knows the mask changes her voice, not just in sound, but magically as well. He'll never be able to place it, without discovering her true identity. He has dealt with items like this before.

"Who are you?" Loki asks.

"You'll always know and never guess," she giggles. A strange sound, in contrast to her mask. It looks porcelain, with wide eyes and an open mouth, insane edges etched into the features. The paint simply enhances the smile; he is not surprised she is called _mad_. As if her words were not enough.

He lunges at her and she skids to the side, only too late to realize it's a feint. He manages to grab her, but she twists out again, giggling incessantly. She pouts, claiming he isn't a good dance partner. He remains calm, not letting her tricks affect him. She kicks out, only for him to teleport.

He reappears and is thrown over her hip, crashing into the wall. Temporarily winded, he takes in her looks. Her short, electric blue hair is glittered with hair pieces, strongly contrasting her dark trench coat. Seeing the silver necklace in her gloved hand spurs him on and he chases her. They travel the maze of tunnels, some Loki isn't sure what they are for, until they make it to a dead end.

"And here I thought this was going to be hard," Loki says predatorily, the excitement of the chase going to his head.

"If you think you think you have won simply because of where we stand, you have the wrong impression," she circles him.

"And what is _wrong_ with my assumption? You are cornered. Nowhere to run," Loki taunts, staying between her and her exit.

"Everything," she cautions. Since he won't let her circle, she slowly approaches him.

"How so?" Loki demands, unsure of what she is getting at. He stands his ground to her approach, and it gets to the point he could reach out and grab her.

"You're a magician yourself. And yet your default assumption is to assume there is no way out?" she teases. Loki instantly shouts a spell. Green fire dances across the walls, forming magical runes. She reaches out and sensually runs her hands up his shoulders. He puts his guard up even more, and grabs her wrists.

"You can't teleport out," Loki boasts. She takes a step closer, so they're almost touching. She leans in, close enough to breath against his ear, if she didn't have a mask on.

"Neither can you," she smirks. She gently nuzzles his neck, heightening the seductive tone of her antics. He wraps his arms around her triumphantly capturing her, only for the impossible to happen.

She phases through him and walks through the wall into solid ground. Loki's mistake is chasing her to the wall, trying to grab her in his shock. As he does so, the walls and ceiling collapse.

* * *

Loki wakes up hours later in the healing wing of the palace, to find Frigga reading in the chair next to him. As she notices him wake, she quietly puts the book away and takes his hand.

"Besides your pride, how are you feeling?" Frigga asks.

"Like a tunnel just collapsed on me," Loki admits and groans as he sits up.

"You do not need to stress your body, Loki," Frigga insists.

"Where did she go?" Loki asks.

"As far as the tracking spells could find, she simply vanished into the ground," Frigga says. "Your father regrets allowing his sons to chase such a dangerous person."

"I was careless," Loki defends. His mother raises an eyebrow curiously. He never really defends Odin. Even though they have a decent relationship, they've never truly seen eye-to-eye. "This Mad Hatter… Something about her… makes me want to take the case."

"Just what I thought you might say," Kvasir says from the door. "If you would allow me to be so bold, your majesties. Every man I've had on this case, who has personally met her, has always been more eager to chase her after the meeting. She uses her words, a lot like you, to play her opponents. As far as we can see, there is no magic to this. That being said, I feel you have fallen under the same spell as I have."

"What did she say to you?" Loki asks.

"She… when I originally took this case, my nephew was sick," Kvasir admits to their surprise. "I know, disease is rare among the Asier. But he was very, very young. And it was killing him. The first time I met her, I chased her into an alley, much like you did. She likes leading people away, so to be alone with them. I suppose I should have warned you.

"She told me where to go to find the plant that would cure him. I, of course, didn't believe her. She occasionally will leave things in place of the items she takes. Normally it's replicas, sometimes with something inside. The next time she used that trick, it had the plant in it with a message on how to cure him.

"Needless to say, the cure worked," Kvasir admits ruefully. "I had the plant moved from the wild and now my family cultivates it. Ever since then, I have hunted her, with the hopes that we could rehabilitate her. That's how the laws stand for thieves. I know she has stolen a significant amount, so if rehabilitation is out of the picture, I would love to pick her mind for useful things."

"Having her on our side would be very useful indeed," Loki agrees. "I would like to take this case and continue working with you, Lord Kvasir."

"I will get that set up," Kvasir nods. "I thank you for your help." With that, he bows out.

"You won't put yourself in more danger, will you?" Frigga asks.

"I promise not to chase her into such obvious traps," Loki consoles her.

"Will you take lunch with me?" Frigga asks.

"Sure," Loki replies, surprised.


	3. 3 - Loki

Thanks for the favorites, follows, and reviews: BohemianRhapsody1986, Kira The Dead Ninja, santanaann4524

* * *

Sex marked

* * *

It has been a while since Frigga asked to spend time alone with Loki. He entertains himself with his new scrolls until lunch. The closer it gets, the more excited he becomes. It often means showing off some new magic that one of them has learned since their last heart-to-heart. As he enters her sitting room, his guard flies up spotting Odin and Frigga murmuring over scrolls.

"Ah, Loki, thank you for joining us," Frigga joyfully rushes over to her son to hug him. As she does so, she feels how tense he has become and whispers: "I apologize, your father made it here far sooner than I expected. There is something we would like to discuss with you."

"Of course," Loki dares not accuse that sweet tone of deception. Warily he sits between his parents, and glances over the scrolls. "You wish to discuss women?"

"I've been having this discussion with your brother for the last month. Your mother was supposed to tell you sooner," Odin's deep voice informs. "As you know, consideration for the throne will take place within the next half decade or so. As tradition states, in order to be considered, you must be engaged or married."

Loki bites his lip to prevent biting Odin's head off. Of course he knew about this tradition. But he had yet to be informed that the consideration process was starting. He thought it wouldn't be for another few decades at least. For it to be so much sooner, Loki ponders the possible reasons and comes up with few.

"So these are the women I may choose from?" Loki waves at the scrolls.

"They are your mother's suggestions," Odin informs. Of course, Odin helps Thor and Frigga helps Loki. Loki is not surprised; it has been like this since before he can remember.

"Thank you for informing me. Perhaps mother and I can look over these?" Loki suggests.

"Of course," Odin leaves, all too glad to leave this to Frigga. He would have dumped Thor on her too, but she insisted on helping only one son at a time.

"What they have accomplished within a month we can accomplish in a session or two," Frigga smiles, her playful banter raising his mood.

"Certainly," Loki looks over the scrolls as the servants bring in lunch. Most are plain, vain women he knows form the court. The daughters of Lannister, of Tyalroy, of Magicsmith, of Tully etc. Three that stand out to him are Sigyn, Amora and Angrbooda.

"Remember, you do not have to choose one right now. There is a ball in a week's time where you will meet each and every one of your potentials," Frigga informs.

"That would take all night," Loki smirks.

"They are all from noble families. You would rather not have any of their fathers accusing you of stealing them before they can be married off. Tyr still thinks you tried something with his wife," Frigga pesters.

"Let them, when I find the one I wish to be with, I will spend all my time with her," Loki smirks, remembering the story well.

"I simply ask you stay in sight, until your brother gets too drunk and starts a fight," Frigga chuckles.

"We both know that won't take long," Loki jests. "These three will do. Perhaps now we can discuss a more lighthearted topic?"

"Recently I received a gift from Vanaheim," Frigga begins, pulling the book out. The rest of the afternoon is spent discussing and practicing the spells within.

* * *

Practicing his new spells is how much of the next week goes by until Loki finds himself standing in front of his full length mirror, scrutinizing his appearance. Bravossi is currently fussing with him—Loki promoted the man to a personal thrall, or pet as the common folk call them.

"Brother," Thor barges in.

"I know mother taught you how to knock," Loki says, not phased in the least. He keeps trying to flatten the creases out of his sleeves. Thor ruins his work by slapping a large hand on his shoulder, earning a glare from both Loki and Bravossi.

"I swear you primp far more than any woman I know," Thor laughs.

"Well, unkept blonde princes seem to be the fashion recently," Loki daintily peels the large hand off and straightens the fabric. "At least one of us cares what we look like."

"We'll be late in meeting our women!" Thor says brashly leading his brother out.

"You're all too eager, Thor. Have you already had some ale?" Loki teases.

"Indeed, I have been waiting a long time for this occasion," Thor jests.

"Careful not to scare them away," Loki replies sharply as Thor keeps ignoring his responses as they walk down the hall. Once to the ballroom, they are announced. Not even halfway down the stairs, a gaggle of women cuts off the princes.

It takes hours for Loki to make it out of all the puffed-up women, all of lower class and status, who throw themselves at him and Thor in an attempt to encourage him to pick them even though they know he won't.

He wanders over to the dessert buffet, gathering some substance after not eating for most of the day. He tries to take an outsider's view of the night only for the first thing to catch his attention are the three plates full of delicious cakes floating just down the way. He spots the caster as she picks up yet another pastry off the table.

"So the Tyalroy Family sends their eligible daughter to collect food for them," Loki comments, only to be insulted when she barely looks at him.

"I'm no call girl…" Elaina then notices who she speaks to. "Oh! Forgive me for my words, your grace. I did not see who I was speaking too. I merely meant to say I am simply gathering food for myself."

"This much? Isn't that unsightly?" Loki asks, not truly caring.

"I know I won't be picked by you nor your brother, your grace. I find no reason to kindle those hopes as much as I may want to. Why not eat the feelings away? I am honored that you have taken your time to talk to me," Elaina curtseys politely.

"What makes you think I won't consider you Elaina?" Loki honestly asks, torn between relief—some low noble woman _actually_ doesn't seek his attention—and curiosity—why she does not seek his attention when she just said she does? Elaina's mouth drops open in a stunned gasp, violet eyes going wide as she meets his green ones for the first time that night.

"Your grace?" Elaina asks, shocked he would even ask. She timidly brushes some deep brown hair behind her pointed ear.

"They say you have the gift of dancing. You also train your family's direwolves, do you not?" he asks. She nods. He looks over her appreciatively, letting his eyes linger along their trail. She wears a simple, yet layered dress that is barely formal enough for the occasion.

"You are fairly beautiful. Your hard work as a professional dancer has paid off. I see no reason not to pick you," Loki teases, testing her.

"There are others far more impressive than I," is her simple response, the same reason why he originally dismissed her. Understanding her place so well, it almost makes Loki feel like she is calling him out. Almost.

"You are correct, but you are also perceptive," Loki points out. "And a magician. I don't recall ever learning that."

"You're a magician yourself. Nearly everyone can learn magic. And yet your default assumption is to assume I have none?" that glint in Elaina's eyes tells Loki she is calling him out. He barely pulls his lips up in a smirk, before she curtseys. "I apologize, your grace. I seem to have let my thoughts take a walk through my mouth and have taken far too much of your time. If you'll excuse me?"

"And if I don't?" Loki states, enjoying her shocked response.

"Then you will give people the wrong impression," Elaina gently, almost flirtatiously, warns.

"And what impression is that?" Loki probes, matching her intent.

"That you have an interest in me," Elaina replies coolly.

"And what is _wrong_ with that?" Loki toys.

"Everything," Elaina cautions. With that, she pulls violet eyes away from green and curtseys away. He watches her vanish into the crowd, weighing his options. He knows she is correct in her assumptions. He won't pick her to be his bride. He had no real interest in her, until she started this little flirtation. As he thinks over the conversation, he realizes it was one of two things. One, a new flirting game, trying to play hard to get. Two, a real warning to stay away. Unfortunately for her, cryptic things sparked his interest.

He informs his mother that there is one more name to put on the list. He knows he won't seriously consider Elaina, but he certainly wishes to take her up on her game. Frigga decides to have a message delivered to Elaina's house, because she is currently occupied with Thor's inability to hand women invitations.

Meanwhile, Loki states his hunger and looks around for the three who truly interest him. The nearest is Sigyn, daughter of Hoenir, an old war buddy of Odin's. Unlike most of Odin's war buddies, he is still alive. Unlike those that are still alive, he retired a few centuries ago to enjoy the splendor of retirement, marriage, and a family.

"Your grace, what an honor to be here," Hoenir greets, with his wife, Eir, on his arm. They are a fairly tall couple, him with blond hair and his wife with white. He wears his armor to these events still, while Eir is wearing a dress the color of peaceful water, in order to bring out the color of her dark blue eyes.

"The honor is mine, to see such lovely friends," Loki politely says.

"Allow me to introduce my daughter, Sigyn the Healer," Hoenir gestures to the girl in all white. She has her mother's hair, but her father's light blue eyes. Loki takes note of her name. She is too young to have achieved such a title, so her family must be ambitious and confident in her skills.

"My pleasure," Loki and Sigyn accidently say in unison, making the smaller woman blush. He politely kisses her silver rings.

"More beautiful than I could have imagined," Loki compliments and pulls his hand away, only for Sigyn to be shocked something is still in her hand. She looks over the envelope oddly. She reads it, becoming more shocked, as Loki talks to her parents. "Thank you, Lord Hoenir, Lady Eir, for permission to consider your daughter for courting. I hope this arrangement is most beneficial to both of our families."

"What's it say dearie?" Eir looks over her daughter's shoulder.

"I have been invited to a lunch next week, with his grace and a few other friends," Sigyn gasps.

"Oh, you get to meet your competition," Eir teases and Sigyn giggles embarrassed.

"No need to use such charged words, Lady Eir. This is so I can meet those I hope to consider in a more private setting than this," Loki gently explains, trying to placate Sigyn's nerves.

"Nonetheless, it would be a wonderful opportunity," Hoenir states.

"Oh, yes, I would be delighted to accept this invitation," Sigyn agrees cheerfully.

"Thank you," Loki kisses her rings again, sending her a seductive look that makes her squirm. "I can't wait for such a beauty to be at my table." From there, the conversation turns to the party, party gossip, and other meaningless topics until he excuses himself and wanders around to find the other two on his list.

Angrbooda is easier to spot than he would have hoped, and not because she is half giant and taller than him. Perhaps it is the half giant part of her that makes her easy to spot, because he finds her in a gaggle of lesser lords—both married and not—discussing hunting topics. A smirk dances across his face as she animatedly explains her latest kill: a boar the size of the dessert table. The same beast served for the dinner.

Her gaze meets Loki's and she smiles. The lords instantly spot him and shuffle about, making up excuses—most don't want to leave her but they know what they should to leave them alone as Loki approaches her.

"Took you long enough to find me, I wasn't hiding," is the first thing out of her mouth. Blunt. He chuckles.

"You're not the only one on my list," Loki hands her the envelope.

"This better be an invitation to go hunting and not what my parents told me," Angrbooda states as she rips it open.

"It's for a lunch next week," Loki says as she reads it. "Please don't scare anyone away."

"When have I ever done that?!" Angrbooda demands.

"You always scare the servants away here. And the summers I spent in the mountains as a child, with you and your family, you seemed to have claimed me and scared away anyone I wished to have fun with," Loki reminds her, just as bluntly.

"So?" Angrbooda asks.

"This isn't just spending time with friends as we used to. I'm a prince looking for a wife," Loki states.

"Fine, fine," Angrbooda grumbles. "I won't _intentionally_ scare anyone away."

"That's all I can ask for, I suppose," Loki sighs. "Where's Amora?"

"Why are you asking me, I'm not her keeper," Angrbooda grumbles and looks around. "There's her aunt and uncle, go ask them." She pushes him away playfully and her hunter lords flock back to her.

"Good evening Lord Delling, Lady Nott," Loki greets the couple.

"Good evening your grace," Delling replies.

"I am so excited you chose our neice as a potential wife, even with how… loose she can be," Nott politely says.

"She isn't called Amora the Enchantress for nothing," Loki jests and Delling laughs while Nott looks not so happy about it. "I'm currently looking for her. To invite her to the lunch next week. Would you know where she is?"

"Either in someone's bed or in the library," Delling suggests. "Though I expressly forbid the first one tonight, so you should have a better chance looking in the library."

"Thank you Lord Delling. I shall search there," Loki walks away, avoiding Nott's judging gaze.

* * *

sex

* * *

Loki does indeed find Amora in the library. On his favorite couch. Fucking some lesser, unmarried lord. He clears his throat, shocking the man—who quickly gathers his clothes and runs from the dark gaze he receives from Loki. Loki receives one just as dark from Amora.

"You going to finish the job or do I have to go track down another?" Amora asks.

"I came here to personally invite you to a lunch next week," Loki gets interrupted.

"The one Angrbooda told me about?" Amora asks. Loki nods. "Ok, you did that job. Now finish this one."

"Why should I take another man's scraps?" Loki offers her his hand.

"Because you're a…" Amora stops when she realizes he teleported them into his private bathroom. She looks around to find a small pool for a bath, and giggles lightly as he starts unlacing her dress form behind. "An impatient prince, apparently."

"You will clean up before I take you, Amora," Loki instructs, pushing the dress down. She steps out of it and slides into the water, before splashing him.

"Now you've got to undress too," Amora teases.

"Who is the impatient one?" Loki teases, stripping oh-so-slowly-and-seductively, just for her. He knows how much it affects her as she watches him hungrily. By the time he joins her, she hungrily ravishes his mouth. He gently pushes her back, her curly blonde hair lazily floating around them.

"Gods of sex, we both have share that title," Amora teases.

"Ah, but so does quite a few other lords and ladies," Loki replies.

"But none are as good as you," Amora slips a hand into his black hair, pulling closer again.

"What, have you tried them all?" Loki teases.

"Yes," Amora replies and dives back into his mouth, thoroughly enjoying his silver tongue. When they break for air, he playfully splashes her before diving underwater. She gasps in dismay, before swimming over to a shelf with lots of bottles on it.

"Come here my woman," Loki orders.

"I thought you wanted me to clean first," Amora teases, brushing the soap all over her body. Through the clear water, he watches her rub the soap block all around her smooth skin. Lower and lower it goes, before slipping between her legs. Hungrily he watches as her lower lips kiss the block, spurring jealously within him.

He ducks under the water again, without her seeing because of how intense the feelings are for her. He manages to swim over unnoticed, before tasting her. The shock of the unexpected tongue is nearly enough to undo her. The deep moan is loud enough he can hear it under the water.

He plays with her for as long as he can, and comes up for breath, before diving back into her mouth, pining her between his body and the edge. The soap block is forgotten as her hands slide through his hair, just the way she knows he likes it.

He allows her to breathe after she moans his name. Impatiently, he pushes her against the edge, and she wraps her legs around his waist. He easily slides into her with a loud, wanton moan ripping from her. She only gets louder and more intense as he rides her out.

She screams his name at her climax, squeezing his from him. He brings them over to another ledge and flips her over, taking her again as she lies half in the water, half on the marble floor. The third time is on his bed.

* * *

end

* * *

After she gets dressed, she looks at him sprawled across his bed, watching her.

"You're not coming back to the festivities?" Amora asks.

"I already gave out the four invitations," Loki punctuates with a yawn. "Besides, I'd rather not have your aunt's reproachful gaze turned on me. I left a few marks."

"Try living with her," Amora rolls her eyes. "Why would she turn it on you? You were my first."

"She never truly liked me because of that," Loki shakes his head.

"So me, Angrbooda, Sigyn and…who's the fourth?" Amora asks.

"Elaina Tyalroy," Loki admits.

"She's decent. What did she do that made you pick her?" Amora asks.

"Nothing special," Loki states.

"Don't lie. We were trained in magic together since we were kids, I know you better than that," Amora warns.

"Did you know she uses magic?" Loki asks. "That and she called me out, but then tried to warn me about getting with her. You know what cryptic does to me."

"Ah, yes, play hard to get and you'll make them realize just how easy they are," Amora laughs. "She's a lesser noble, won't be able to hold back from your charms for long. After you use her, you'll just drop her, won't you?"

"I won't be that harsh," Loki whines.

"When aren't you?" Amora teases before giving him a quick kiss and walking out.


	4. 4 - Thor

Thanks for reading!

* * *

The night began with Thor making sure his brother got to the ball, only for a gaggle of women to cut them off on the stairs. Always the people pleaser, Thor had to stop and greet each one formally, and ended up promising to dance with most of them. Loki somehow got away from them far sooner.

Frigga comes to his rescue, much to Thor's relief. He follows her around like a puppy as she introduces him to higher lords and their daughters. Talking to the Tully family, Thor forgets to hand over his invitation until it is almost awkward. Frigga gently nudges him and he remembers, and makes a show of inviting her.

"I apologize Lady Kyra, your beauty caused me to temporarily forget I meant to give this to you," Thor hands over the invitation. Indeed, she is beautiful with her curly red hair showing off her vanaheim roots. Her golden dress shimmers around her, only to be outdone by her mother's.

"Thank you grace, you are too kind," Kyra smiles and takes the letter. She reads it before handing it to her mother. "Thank you for the invitation your grace. I look forward to it. Shall I bring a gift?"

"Your presence would be gift enough," Thor kisses her hand before Frigga leads him away from the riches merchant family of Asgard.

The next family Thor meets shows the same politeness. He almost forgets again, this time due to Loki telling something to Frigga. He manages to hear something about 'adding another' before Loki leaves.

Courtesy demands he lathers compliments onto Nanna of Song—named after her musical abilities—as well her mother. Thankfully Frigga rejoins the conversation before Thor addresses the wrong one. Nanna and her mother look nearly identical, with their blonde hair waving down their backs and their blue dresses mirrors of each other. Nanna is just as happy as Kyra to receive the invitation, promising to be there as well.

The last family he meets he waits for the father and daughter to leave the dance floor. The four of them sit at a table, eating some dessert as Frigga and Lord Hamish Rashmore discuss the good old days. Lord Rashmore is pure Vanaheim, just like Frigga. They were school mates as well.

If Thor did not know Lord Rashmore was Vor's father, he would have guessed brother. As he is not needed to spew courtesy, Thor takes a good look at Vor. Her raven hair is as dark as his brothers, her light brown eyes that seem so much older than she is. One of the many reasons she is called Vor the Wise.

When a lull in the conversation occurs, he eagerly presents the invitation to her. She graciously accepts it and the conversation between their parents continue.

Later Sif finds him getting more desserts for his mother and friends.

"How has your evening been?" Sif asks.

"Wonderful, my lady," Thor says, his eyes appreciatively taking in Sif in a dress instead of her normal armor.

"Who are those for?" Sif asks.

"My mother found her old friend, Lord Rashmore," Thor explains. "Listening to their stories of mischief reminds me of Loki and me as children. Oh! Before I forget, this is for you."

"Me?" Sif looks at him incredulously. She takes the envelope and tentatively opens it. She reads it with wide eyes. They become accusing as she looks at him. "I didn't realize I was eligible for your consideration."

"Sif, you've been my father's ward since we were children," Thor kindly explains, pulling a smile from her. "Of course someone I know so well should be considered as my potential."

"But my family is only lesser nobles. I'm only your father's ward because of a promise form the late King Bor," Sif reminds him.

"Status means little, just ask my brother. You're my best friend. I need you there to help me choose," and just like that, Thor shatters her heart.

"You mean protect you from hungry women?" Sif jests, doing her best to keep her pain out of her voice.

"That too," Thor agrees.

"Then you have my sword, my prince," Sif curtseys and walks away.

He has no clue why during training the next day she is relentless, to the point where she 'accidently' breaks Hogun's arm.

"Thor!" Frandall calls, a few days later. Thor turns back down the hall and shouts for Frandall. They meet halfway.

"It is wonderful to see a friendly face. How may I assist you today?" Thor asks.

"Have you seen Lady Sif lately? She seems to be hiding after _accidently_ breaking Hogun's arm," Frandall explains.

"I have not seen her since the incident," Thor admits.

"Has she seemed different to you?" Frandall asks.

"Different? I know not what you mean Frandall," Thor replies.

"She just seems really agitated lately. Do you know of something that might have changed for her recently? She is more likely to talk to you than me," Frandall asks.

"Unfortunately I do not know. I have noticed she is more agitated, like you say. Are you trying to help her relax?" Thor asks.

"The only way I know how," Frandall makes a sexual gesture and Thor laughs.

"If she doesn't cut you to pieces first, she could really use that. I wish you luck, friend," Thor pats his shoulder.

"Thanks," Frandall says before walking off.

Thor proceeds to barge into Loki's room to the surprise of Loki's new servant.

"Where is Loki?" Thor demands of Bravossi. The Vanaheim man is in a plain top and breeches, with an emerald collar around his neck to show how he is a thrall.

"I have not seen Master Loki recently. Last I saw of him, he was reading in the library," Bravossi says. Thor stops and takes a good look at him.

"You're his captive," Thor states.

"Hence the collar," Bravossi points.

"Did he ever find what he was looking for in your book?" Thor asks.

"Yes, and he is very happy with what he found, your grace," Bravossi says.

"You're showing him spells, aren't you?" Thor says, surprising Bravossi.

"You know your brother too well," Bravossi says.

"Not as well as when we were kids," Thor says. "Anyway, if you see him before I do, let him know father wishes for us to attend his war council this afternoon."

"Of course your grace," Bravossi bows. "Anything else I can assist you with?"

"What did he find in your book?" Thor asks.

"Magic," Bravossi simply states and Thor smiles warmly.

"Serve him well, friend," Thor nods and walks out.

"I was not expecting that," Bravossi states.

"I was," Loki says, becoming visible as he walks into the room. "He likes to befriend all, even those beneath him such as thralls like you."

"I suppose that is why so many people love him," Bravossi observes.

"What did I say about speaking out of turn?" Loki scoffs.

"Only speak when spoken to, your grace," Bravossi bows slightly. "I was instructed to inform you—"

"I heard," Loki growls, his mood obviously sour.

"At least you didn't have to talk to him directly," Bravossi points out.

"Yes, I suppose you are useful for something," Loki pulls his council coat on.

Once in the meeting, he discovers it is merely a discussion about crops and the upcoming harvest. A few congratulate him and Thor for making this big step in their lives. Thor takes it happily, joking around with the men about courting traditions and such.

On his way out, Thor accidently bumps into Sif.

"Oh, I'm sorry my prince," Sif tries to scurry away but his firm hand grabs her arm and stops her.

"Please, do come with me," Thor says gently, though he quickly pulls her down the hall and then randomly pulls her into a shadow. "May I ask what is wrong?"

"Nothing's wrong," Sif says, refusing to meet his blue eyes.

"I know you better than that," Thor argues. "Did something happen?"

Sif nods hesitantly.

"Who was it?"

Sif shakes her head.

"Was it Loki?"

Sif shakes her head.

"Was it Frandall?"

Again, Sif shakes her head.

"Was it me?"

Sif laughs sadly. "You always assume it was you."

"It normally is. You know I often don't know the strength of my words. For whatever wrong I have said, please forgive me," Thor pleads.

"It's not…" Sif shakes her head, not liking that he is apologizing and not even knowing why. She has already beat herself up for feeling this way without a legitimate reason in her mind.

"May I ask what I said?" Thor asks.

"It was nothing," Sif sighs. She continues after she realizes that's not enough for him. "I'm probably blowing it out of proportion."

"Please Sif, tell me. You know it pains me to see you troubled," Thor pleads.

"I just… you said… help you choose, and I was under the impression that I was in the running for your potential. I was just misinterpreting—uh," Sif gasps when gently lips press against hers.

Thor almost gives up, but then she responds sweetly to the kiss. Her slender hands snake up around his neck and he pulls her closer. When they break for air she blushes and he shyly chuckles.

"I… uh…" Sif fishes for something to say.

"You are in the running," Thor proclaims. "You have an unfair advantage, because you've known me for so long. I apologize for saying those things. I only meant that this is a marriage between a prince and his future queen. Or so my father keeps saying. If it wasn't, I'd of carried you off long ago. I trust your judgment, especially when it comes to relationships.

"I also trust you to be able to look at this list of women I've made and be able to explain to me the benefits and cons—and don't you dare forget yourself in this list! I know you will be able to do this.

"We had this discussion when you first took up your sword. You didn't want anything to do with a relationship with a prince, even though I was trying to convince you to elope. You have an amazing ability to step back from your feelings and look at thing analytically.

"I included you to take you up on my promise." This pulls a happy laugh out of Sif.

"I had forgotten you valued my opinion so high," Sif looks away.

"I wish to be able to value your opinion for the rest of my days," Thor says.

"I have very little to offer the prince," Sif admits before meeting his eyes. "I will do my best to advise you wisely in this endeavor."

"Don't you dare forget yourself in this," Thor scolds kindly.

"I promise not to forget," Sif says and kisses him softly.

He kisses her back passionately, half tempted to push her up against a wall because of how excited her answer makes him. She can certainly feel it as one hand eagerly pulls her closer.


	5. 5 - Loki

Thank you for reading!

* * *

warning: loki uses a whip on bravossi (abuse)

* * *

Loki spends most of his free time reading over his scrolls and books on Soul Magic, learning to solidify illusions from the book his mother gave him, and reading over the book Kvasir gave him on the Mad Hatter.

Bravossi knocks and is beckoned in to Loki's private study, where he is lounging across a couch, reading. Bravossi enters, holding the rest of the material on the Mad Hatter.

"The copying has finished, your grace," Bravossi announces.

"Did you read them?" Loki looks at him lazily.

"Of course," Bravossi admits.

"What a naughty thing to do, reading private files," Loki gets up, walks over, and opens the first book. "How accurate?"

"Only as accurate as a hunter can get," Bravossi offers. Loki raises an eyebrow at him incredulously. "I was not at any of these events, so I cannot say for certain if they happened the way they are recorded. But I can attest to his record of her skills, speech style, fighting style, weapons, magic, and other techniques. Even the names of people seem to be accurate."

"People?" Loki asks. If he wasn't there, how could the hedgemage know the accuracy of the people who were there?

"Lord Talmant Spitfire, a lesser lord in the east, was targeted a lot for some particular plants in his vineyard. The Ashamare bush can cure the Rosha disease, and he refused to sell it to anyone. So she would steal it on occasion to help her 'steal' illnesses from others. Lord Kvasir has a very detailed record of that," Bravossi explains.

"Who are you to her?" Loki asks.

"Just a friend," Bravossi states honestly. Loki cannot understand how that is no lie.

"Did you read anything of interest?" Loki asks.

"The record of the former commanding officer, Hamish Rashmore," Bravossi states. "Lord Kvasir let his anger get the better of him when writing it."

"What happened?" Loki flips through the book to find it.

"The Mad Hatter stole an incurable illness from his daughter," Bravossi explains. "When they received the announcement, Lord Rashmore was reluctant to tell, for he had heard of how the Mad Hatter really does heal when she promises to. No one was able to stop her, though Lord Kvasir refused to believe it. The Mad Hatter didn't appear in person, though this record says that Lord Rashmore's daughter claimed to have met her in her dream when she woke up. Another thing that happened when she woke up was that her illness was gone.

"Lord Kvasir was enraged, especially because Lord Rashmore retired that day. Rumor eventually got back to Lord Kvasir that Lord Rashmore was visited by the Mad Hatter the night he retired and they had a very long chat. Lord Kvasir would have fired him when he found out, but the good Lord Rashmore was already retired.

"Lord Rashmore did admit to the visit, but refused to give any details. As for his reasoning to why he did not arrest her, he claimed it was not within his power to do so anymore. Lord Rashmore is a good man," Bravossi finishes.

"A good man? You've met?" Loki asks.

"I was a free thief, but…" Bravossi hesitates.

"Do you want my favorite whip again?" Loki lightly threatens.

"Lord Kvasir doesn't know… I was originally looking for this," Bravossi hesitantly explains. "The Mad Hatter gives out messages. She doesn't work within the thieves' guild, but almost as a secondary force. There are thieves, both free and in the guild, that work under her _suggestions_. Some intentionally seek her out, others simply receive orders. If you do as she says, she helps you if you want, and pays handsomely for your work. It's a guarantee.

"I met Lord Rashmore on one such mission," Bravossi admits. "He and his daughter are lovely."

"Have you met the Mad Hatter, more than just these suggestions?" Loki asks.

"I already told you I'm her friend. Of course I met her. We grew…" Bravossi hesitates. Loki summons his whip. "…close."

"Though that isn't a lie, that wasn't your original meaning, now what is?" Loki taunts, the whip gently stroking Bravossi's lower back.

"No," Bravossi states. When he doesn't explain, Loki whips that spot, making Bravossi yelp and stagger.

"Put those books on my desk, then hold on," Loki instructs.

"Yes your grace," Bravossi says automatically and obeys. He holds onto the edge of the desk and receives two more lashes.

"That is for withholding information from me," Loki stands threateningly close. "No matter who she was to you, you're my personal thrall now. My pet. My plaything. You will tell me about the Mad Hatter."

"What would you like to know, your grace?" Bravossi asks.

"Tell me the truth," Loki states.

"We grew up together," Bravossi states.

"Where?" Loki asks. He understands Bravossi's reluctance now, but figures any information he can get out of him is more important.

"The market, the city, the capital," Bravossi lists. "I was a servant, kept bouncing between noble houses because I was very dedicated and a hard worker when I was obedient. More often than not, my mouth would get me in trouble and I'd be exchanged and sent to a different house."

"You became a thief even though you had a good life set out for you?" Loki asks.

"What is so good about being caged?" Bravossi smirks. Loki whips him and he whimpers.

"I am the one asking questions here," Loki orders. "Who was she?"

"Some lord's daughter," Bravossi states. Loki isn't sure if that is vague on purpose, of if Bravossi simply doesn't remember. Childhood is hard to recall for any Asgardian, though Bravossi did say 'friends'.

"You remember," Loki states, pressing the whip against Bravossi's lower back. "Tell me."

"I didn't know she would become the Mad Hatter. I only made the connection when I did a favor for her—ah!" Bravossi bites his lip, failing to ignore the pain.

"I didn't ask that," Loki states. "Give me a name."

Silence meets him. No matter how many more times he is whipped, Bravossi refuses to speak. Loki only stops when he realizes there is blood on his whip. He notices that he reopened Bravossi's wound.

"I really shouldn't have this cared for, your insolence caused this," Loki sighs.

"If that's what you see, you missed my point entirely," Bravossi says through gritted teeth. Loki's eyes flash darkly at him.

"What was that, _pet_?" Loki spits the last word in a dehumanizing way.

"I will not defend myself against the likes of you," Bravossi defies, surprising Loki that he still can.

"Give me one good reason to stop," Loki dares.

"My point was I don't take the punishments of servants well. You're not the only one who uses whips on their servants. You'll get better information from me with kindness. If you want to learn anything else about her… that's your choice," Bravossi says and waits for another blow.

None comes.

Instead, he yips when cold, slender fingers pull his shirt off, and then begin working on untangling the torn bandages. Loki's hands work deftly as Bravossi watches in awe.

"What?" Loki stops when Bravossi smirks.

"You really want her that much, do you?" Bravossi teases. "All of us do. She is hard to find, and even harder to tame… Thank you, your grace."

Loki ignores him and goes back to tending the wounds. It's only when he starts wrapping the bandage around Bravossi's waist that he notices the tattoo.

"Where did you get this?" Loki's gentle fingers trace the lavender colored petal with a needle piercing it.

"Like I said, we're not an official guild or anything, but the Mad Hatter has a secondary force, bound by magic and the old Soul Binds," Bravossi whispers.

"She has an army?" Loki insinuates.

"A people. Friends who are willing to help her cause," Bravossi says. He winces when Loki intentionally pulls the bandage a little too hard. Once it is tied off, Loki steps back and looks at him expectantly. "Thank you your grace."

"And?" Loki demands.

"You're not getting her name," Bravossi states. Loki attempts to slap him, but Bravossi catches his wrist. The strength Bravossi displays surprises him. "But I can make a small list of folk who have this binding. Some you may even feel like visiting to get more answers." Loki eyes him suspiciously before nodding. Bravossi lets go.

"Why are you Soul Bound?" Loki asks.

"You wouldn't believe me even if I told you," Bravossi says. The whip brushes against his arm.

"I could make you," Loki says.

"You've missed my point again," Bravossi states.

"What, want a kiss?" Loki taunts.

"Maybe," Bravossi says.

"Then you'll tell me?" Loki asks.

"It won't matter. You'll be honor bound to act on this information. But then you'll have to tell where you got your source. It wouldn't be more than a goodbye kiss—" Bravossi is stunned when soft lips press against his.

"Or it could be to tell you to shut up," Loki says and Bravossi laughs.

"There's a rebellion coming," Bravossi states, shocking Loki. "I'm on her side. She's on yours. Someone else will lead it. We're not on it. We're not entirely sure who, yet. He calls himself the Dragon Lord. We have no clue what that means or who he is behind his mask. When I find out, I'll let you know, unless I've been imprisoned and can't, or killed—"

Those soft lips meet his again.

"What was that for?" Bravossi asks.

"A thank you," Loki states. "I'll look into it, to see if I should believe you or not." Soft lips meet his.

"Thank you, your grace," Bravossi nods. "What else can I do for you?"

"I have to get ready for a lunch with my women," Loki says. "Dress me."

"One of these days it's going to be the opposite of that," Bravossi mutters.

"What was that?" Loki asks, eyeing his servant reproachfully.

"Of course, my Lord," Bravossi goes to help him with a smirk.

* * *

As Loki walks to the gardens, he slips into a shadow.

"You're early," Loki says, making both the servant and Amora squeak in surprise.

"I-I-I apologize milord," the serving girl nervously straitens Amora's dress.

"Don't apologize, Marie," Amora tsks and helps the younger woman straighten her outfit. "No trouble will come to you, you have my word."

"Thank you milady," Marie curtsies away.

"You scared her away," Amora pouts.

"You're supposed to meet us in the western gardens," Loki states.

"Tell that to Angrbooda. Last I saw she was goading Frandall," Amora scoffs.

"Go to the gardens," Loki sighs. "And no distractions."

"This probably won't work out if I have to be faithful," Amora whines but concedes.

* * *

Loki ends up in the practice court, only to discover a line of wounded guards on one side, and ones preparing for sparing on the other.

"Angrbooda!" Loki shouts. The guard fighting the raven haired woman looks, but she doesn't, managing to slice his leg badly and he goes down.

"Someone get a healer…" Angrbooda looks around for someone to bark at. She discovers Loki. "You, make sure that's not lethal."

"You're supposed to be in the gardens," Loki states, ignoring the wounded man. Some of his friends drag him to the side, making sure he is alright.

"I've got people to train. Your castle pansies are soft compared to mountain raiders," Angrbooda shouts.

"You'll have plenty of time for that later," Loki says. "Follow me."

"And if I don't?" Angrbooda counters.

"Amora will miss you," Loki notices this doesn't soften Angrbooda as much as he hoped it would. "There's also a new girl with a sweet tooth that you can pick on."

"I don't bully people," Angrbooda complains, sheathing her weapon and follows him out.

* * *

They arrive in the garden to find Amora discussing something with Sigyn, and join the conversation. As they talk, Loki studies them.

Amora's dark, revealing dress lives up to her reputation. She openly flirts with all, trying to show off her body as she plays with her long, flowing blonde hair. What sparked his interest in her was her mastery of magic, and how she flaunts it when most women hide it. Plus their history and friendship.

Angrbooda's brash, yet playful manner shows through, so she doesn't scare off sweet Sigyn. Being half giant, she grew up as the daughter of a lord of the mountains. This is shown through her toned body and fur accented dress. He picked her for the knowledge of being a noble in a warring area. That, and her reputation of being a good fighter confirms to him that she would be a great queen. Plus their history and friendship.

Sigyn's soft remarks match her personality well, just like her outfit. Her light dress fans out on the couch as part of her picture of purity. He picked her for her family, one of the oldest in Asgard aside from the Royal family. She has great potential in the healing arts. They have no history, and he is eager to learn more.

A half hour goes by before he remembers he is missing someone. He looks over to Thor and the handful of women he is entertaining on the other side of the garden. Elaina is not there. He receives his answer shortly when Frigga herself leads in the timid brunette.

"Ah, Elaina, you finally arrived. Did you truly think you did not catch my interest?" Loki says playfully as he greets her at the door.

"It would seem the messenger never delivered the letter. The matter is being looked into," Frigga informs kindly.

"I was afraid I scared you off, my dear," Loki flirts. She looks at him with big eyes, then to Frigga, who's arm she was lead in on, and then to Loki. "Scared?"

Elaina nods.

"Don't be," Loki offers his arm to escort her to the others. "There is no reason for it. Come, let's meet our other friends."

"I beg your pardon, but there is reason. I have no place here among such beautiful nobles, I merely here am on your whim. May I please go home? I have a dance lesson this afternoon I must attend," Elaina begs.

"Don't worry about it!" Angrbooda picks up the squeaking, smaller woman in a hug. "You'll fit right in. I'm Angrbooda, nice to meet you!"

"Uh… I'm Elaina Tyalroy," Elaina quickly realizes the giantess won't put her down without a hug back.

"Everyone always has a place where they are," Sigyn perks up, standing near them. She chuckles, with Loki following, as Angrobooda nearly carries Elaina to the spread of couches.

"Welcome to the party, Elaina. Nice to see another magician," Amora gives her a big smile that calms her down.

"Uh… thank you my lady," Elaina attempts to bow in her seat. This is more difficult than it should be with Angrbooda's arm still wrapped around her shoulders.

"No need for such formalities when we are among friends," Amora offers.

"Thank you, but I am still unsure as to why I am here," Elaina looks to Loki for help.

"This is for us as much as it is for Loki," Sigyn explains. "While we spark his interest, we must decide if he sparks ours and if we feel we desire to seek after him. We will have many meetings like this over the next few months, I suppose."

"That was put beautifully," Loki compliments. "This is a chance to get to know one another on a more personal bases. I do hope, even if nothing political is formed from this, that we build friendships and can maintain them afterwards."

Everyone agrees. The gathering continues, and eventually Thor's group mixes with Loki's, only for Angrbooda and Sif to challenge each other to a fight. The men prevent this, offering to postpone it until a later date.

"I am certainly going to keep that talent in mind," Angrbooda smirks towards Sif, who rolls her eyes playfully.

"Speaking of talents, you have a dance practice sometime this afternoon, do you not Elaina?" Sigyn asks.

"Yes, as much fun as this is, I'm going to have to leave soon," Elaina admits. "If I may be ex—"

"Perhaps we may watch, this one time?" says Kyra gives her biggest smile.

"I'm not sure if the teachers would be comfortable with this with such little notice," Elaina states slowly, looking to Loki for help again.

"Nonsense!" says Nanna excitedly. "It's the royal family. They would appreciate this chance."

"Go, we will meet you there," Loki instructs a petrified Elaina.

* * *

A polite amount of time later, the group finds themselves seated in the theater, watching the dancers warm up.

"There are so many colors!" Nanna says with awe, sitting next to Sigyn.

"Yes, we are lucky for our supply of magical props from Elaina. Try as we might, there is no way to get Asgardian hair to stand up like that or be such vivid pink," says Dayne, the dance instructor seated with them. He is referencing the women on stage, with their hair unnaturally blossoming into flower patterns.

"She made that?" Amora asks curiously, as her and Loki use their magic to scrutinize the props. Dayne pills a ribbon out of his pocket and wraps it around his small blonde ponytail. This entire head erupts into large, exaggerated, white curls. His audience laughs politely before he hands the tie over for Kyra, Loki and Amora to look at. Soon, the lights dim and the dancers perform a masterpiece of moves, from simple ballet to extravagant contact-and-toss kind of moves.

* * *

Later Loki walks Elaina up to her gate from the carriage.

"Your practice this afternoon was wonderful," Loki compliments.

"I told my instructor of my new situation and he changed the plans to be more impressive," Elaine sighs, still tense. "I apologize, your grace. I didn't mean to sound ungrateful. It has simply not been the day I was expecting."

"You need not apologize for what you say. That is part of your charm and why I picked you," Loki manipulates. He puts a hand on her shoulder, gently massaging it.

"That's not a legitimate reason," Elaina accuses.

"Of course it is," Loki jests, unsure of which she is talking about.

"You dismissed most for their vanity, charm is not far from it," Elaina points out, realizes what she said, blushes and looks away. Loki looks at her more intently, realizing how strategically she looks at the situation.

"I still chose you," Loki states.

"Why? There are so many more qualified women," Elaina scoffs, nervously fiddling with her skirt.

"Maybe I don't want those qualifications," Loki gently teases and she finally relaxes under his touch.

"Do you even know what you want?" Elaina accuses.

"I want someone I know I can trust with the real me," Loki admits. Truth be told, he plans to keep her for that tongue of hers, the one that keeps calling him out. She'll be fun to play with.

"Doesn't everyone?" Elaina chuckles. She receives a smirk in response. She pulls him into a hug, gently nuzzling his neck and he hugs her back. With the last of her courage, she places a quick kiss on his check.

"What was that for?" Loki gently teases.

"A thank you your grace, today means a lot for me," Elaina replies.

"You're welcome. Are you available next week? Another invitation will be going out shortly," Loki informs.

"Oh, I suppose I will be then," Elaina says shyly. She awkwardly curtsies and runs past her gate, to her house.


	6. 6 - Elaina

As always, thanks for reading & reviewing!

Guest - thanks for checking it out. I have the same reservations about the 'princes have to marry' plot, but I'm glad people are giving it a chance.

warning: abuse (beatings and blood)

* * *

Waking up, Elaina wonders how much she'll regret her decision to be considered as a candidate for Loki. Knowing it's not best to wallow in her thoughts, she gets ready for the day. She is thankful when her father, Lord Magyr of the Tyalroy Estate, is nowhere to be seen and she does not have to tend to her mother's wounds.

She finds herself training her dogs for the majority of the morning. During a break, she lies on the grass and up at the graying sky.

"It's going to rain," Elaina says. As they have been trained, most of the dogs nod in agreement.

"Anyone want to guess how much?" Elaina asks. The shabby red one barks three times, the white one barks twice.

"So we've got a vote for three inches, and one for two. Choose your sides," Elaina points two fingers to her right, three to the left. Four follow the red one to the left, five follow the white.

"A pretty even split," Elaina hums. "So it's somewhere between two and a half inches and three."

"I'll admit that's far more impressive than any weather seer," Magyr announces from the porch.

"Lord Magyr!" Elaina exclaims, bowing. Some of the dogs growl at him, but with a hand signal from her, they stop and paw at the ground.

"So we're getting 2.5 to 3 inches of rain this evening?" Magyr asks.

"Yes, my lord," Elaina remains on her knees.

"Your mother has finished making lunch. It is time for you to stop this training nonsense and come inside," Magyr orders.

"Yes sir," Elaina quickly puts the dogs away.

"Are those grass stains on your dress?" Magyr demands as she walks in.

"Are they?" Elaina twirls to find them. She gets a slap on her hand.

"What have I told you about your poor sense of humor?" Magyr demands.

"It is useless and I should not use it," Elaina looks shamefully at the floor.

"And what have I told you about grass stains?" Magyr demands.

"To do everything in my power to avoid them," Elaina meekly says.

"You will receive your punishment after you change," Magyr orders.

"But what if blood gets on my—" the slap can be heard throughout the dining room.

"There's your blood. Now clean up and get changed," Magyr orders. Elaina scurries away to her room. Inside a little brunette waits with a new outfit.

"Lady Elaina," the child greets, her light eyes not quite seeing.

"Did anyone enter while I was away, Hela?" Elaina asks.

"No, but I heard your father slap you. Here's a new dress. How is Fenrir doing?" Hela asks.

"The same as always, helping me train the direwolves. I wish things weren't so hard for him, they love tackling him," Elaina slips into her new dress.

"Not as hard as the orphanage, but I wish you hadn't insisted on taking mine and my brother's beatings when we mess up," Hela coos.

"My father already beat me and my mother before I took you in. Yours is nothing, considering how good you two behave," Elaina shrugs. "Thanks."

Elaina returns to the kitchen and obediently goes to set the table. Magyr pulls her aside and paddles her for the grass stains and forgetting she gets a beating.

After lunch, she asks permission to spend time in her room writing. She is granted permission to do so. She opens her ink bottle and whispers a spell on it. She dips the end of her quill in, and puts it to the paper, glowing.

She writes a short script for her dance school. They are putting on a play in half a year and right now the students are allowed to submit scripts. That is the story she writes on the top. Underneath, using the magical part of memory ink, she records how her day has gone so far, including the beatings.

By dinner, she has started working on an actual script to submit.

"So, you were chosen to be courted by the lesser prince?" Magyr asks her over dinner.

"Yes, Lord Magyr," Elaina nods. "I am one of four that Prince Loki will eventually choose from."

"You should have aimed for the greater prince," Magyr states.

"I aimed for no prince at all, for they are far above my station," Elaina explains, knowing it won't do any good. "I did not choose who picked me."

"You will not talk back again, do you understand?" Magyr threatens.

"I apologize my lord. Of course I understand," Elaina nods.

"Have you started working on a script to submit to your dance class?" Magyr asks.

"Yes my lord," Elaina replies.

"Good. If it doesn't get chosen, you will be beaten. Understood?" Magyr orders.

"Yes my lord," Elaina repeats.

"Good. Zaria, my dear wife, how did the meeting with your acquaintances go?" Magyr turns his attention to his wife.

"Good," Zaria says unsteadily. "Lady Matrish is pregnant again. Lady Fulla is having issues with her fiancé. They are arguing over the cost of their wedding. Many people are talking about the Princes' and their selections."

"What are the people saying about our Elaina?" Magyr asks.

"They," Zaria hesitates. "They say that because she is a lesser noble, and apparently a last minute pick, she will not be picked as Lord Loki's bride. They say she is only his plaything."

"You hear that child? You're a useless toy for the prince," Magyr taunts. "You are worthless, far below this prince though you should aim to take his attention. Entertain him any way you can. I want all the leverage I can get out of this, you understand me girl?"

"Yes Lord Magyr," Elaina parrots.

"Finish your dinner and then take some to your servants. You are dismissed for the evening. That is, until I finish with your mother. You may need to heal her again," Magyr states. Zaria shrinks away from him.

"Understood, Lord Magyr," Elaina does her best to keep her hate out of her voice. Unfortunately he must be able to sense it, because he kicks her under the table. She bites her lip to keep from making any noise. Quickly she finishes eating and takes food to Hela and Fenrir.

* * *

The next day she gets an invitation to spend the afternoon with Amora, in the palace. Magyr gives her permission to go.

She arrive, trying to memorize where the path. Once to Amora's wing, the blonde greets her, dressed in short shorts and a revealing top.

"Welcome to my palace home!" Amora greets, hugging the smaller woman.

"Thank you for the invitation," Elaina hugs back, though awkwardly.

"Have you had lunch yet?" Amora asks. Elaina is about to answer, but a yellow cat with blue dots hisses at her.

"Oh, I was training my direwolves this morning," Elaina states. "Blue dots aren't natural, are they?"

"No, I fed Lydia a harmless potion and bam, blue spots. They should disappear in a few hours," Amora then drags Elaina in and leads her around. "So, Dayne let me keep hair tie that makes a funny white wig and I've been trying to figure out how it works for _hours_. I even passed up a flexible guard for this. Then it hit me. Why not ask the original creator? Would you be willing to show me your secret?"

"It's not that much of a secret…" Elaina looks at the taller woman like she is crazy. "It's simple really. Mix _Rice of Thum_, _Giant's snout_, and _Gliddia's Petals_. Dampen the mixture, but not so much it won't catch fire. Then take a drawing you want, say the magic words, and burn it over that mixture. Then soak that mixture completely into the item you want to use."

Amora gapes at her.

"I thought it was _Giant's Stool_ and _Harman's Heart Petals_," Amora laughs. "I was way off. That's so simple. What's the magic words?"

"_Goddess grant me this mad dream, from the tips of my boots to the brim of my hat. My dream is to change what I wear, for better or for worse. Goddess grant me this mad dream_," Elaina says.

"And it's just that simple?" Amora asks, leading her into the potions room.

"I love the simplicity," Elaina nods.

"How'd you figure it out?" Amora asks.

"I was upset as a kid. I wanted to look as pretty as the ladies at court so I took a picture I had drawn and burnt it. It mixed in with a few other things and I ended up getting it on my dress and it transformed around me. It took a while, but I figure out what happened," Elaina tells.

"What's the quality of the outfits?" Amora asks, searching her cupboard for supplies.

"What do you mean?" Elaina asks.

"Like if you draw a suit of armor, is it actual armor or flimsy cloth?" Amora asks.

"It literally changes what you're wearing into something else," Elaina says. "If you're wearing armor before, it will be the same material, just look different. For wigs, you have to add _Hair of the Ryth_ and _Daiya's Cloth_."

"Isn't _Daiya's Cloth_ expensive?" Amora asks gathering everything they need on the table.

"It's less expensive than buying a thousand wigs that will only get worn down," Elaina shrugs.

"I wonder if there is a way to change the material type?" Amora thinks to herself as she looks over the ingredients.

"I know the more detailed the drawing, the more detailed the final product. I've drawn certain patterns into things to make cotton or nylon and it works pretty well. I've never tried with metals," Elaina responds.

"Sweet, that's what we're doing this afternoon… you never replied to if you had lunch," Amora looks at her.

"Uh, no I haven't," Elaina says and flinches as Amora excitedly approaches her.

"Then come on, let's go eat! You can tell me more about your strange inventions over food," Amora drags Elaina into the kitchen, pretending to ignore the flinch. She instructs Old Betty, her head cook, to make something simple for them, and that Elaina will be joining them for dinner. Elaina protests that, but Amora ignores it as she explains that Angrbooda is having dinner with them too.

"Why?" Elaina asks as she gingerly eats the delicious soup.

"We've been friends for a very long time," Amora responds. "She came here from the mountains, and left most everything behind. She only brought two servants! She's staying in my wing, because hers would be too quite."

"Is she here right now?" Elaina looks around.

"No, I think she was looking for Sif last I saw," Amora explains happily. "She doesn't like living at this lower levitation, she keeps complaining that the air is too heavy. I want to cheer her up, so I was hoping to use your design to make some light armor for her. If she likes it, she'll commission it from you."

"Oh… thank you," Elaina partially bows.

"No bowing among friends either," Amora teasingly scolds.

"Wow, I can't believe that for me you're just opening your arms like that," Elaina says, then raises an eyebrow when Amora laughs.

"Sorry, for a moment I thought you were going to say legs. If you want to tumble around, I'd sure be up to it cutie," Amora flirts and Elaina blushes darkly.

"Wh-Why would I say something like that?!" Elaina demands.

"I am Amora the _Enchantress_," Amora says seductively. "I'm well known for certain talents, besides my magic."

"By the norns," Elaina huffs and looks away, trying to calm down.

"What, never flirted with a woman before?" Amora teases.

"No, not really," Elaina admits.

"Why not?" Amora teases.

"Because I don't know how to flirt," Elaina admits. "You're coming on really strong."

"Oh, dear me. Have I made you uncomfortable? I'm sorry," Amora sincerely apologizes.

"Well, nothing's wrong, I just don't get flirted with often," Elaina mumbles.

"Well, once you finish we'll go experiment a bit," Amora says and laughs at Elaina's shocked expression. "With your magic potion thing. Though if you want to experiment _that_ way I would be happy too."

"Maybe," Elaina responds and devours her soup.

During the afternoon, they work hard on developing new things. Elaina starts worrying about wasting a bunch of material and Amora kisses her to shut her up. Other than that, she romantically leaves her alone.

Dinner is a splendid affair, with Angrbooda joining them. She recants her exploration of the castle and how she always seems to end up in the training field, sparing with pansies. She vows to whip every guard into shape while she is here.

* * *

That night, Elaina returns home to find her mother sitting at the kitchen counter, tight-lipped and holding some parchment tightly.

"Mother?" Elaina asks.

"Your father will want to discuss this with you. Our family has been invited to a dinner in two weeks, so we can meet the royal family and you can have some more time with the prince," Zarai says tensely. "Next week you are invited to another lunch with your new friends."

"Understood," Elaina steels herself, used to this type of thing. "Before that, is there anything you would like me to tend to?"

"My lower back, please," Zaria says quietly. Silently, Elaina heals the bruising before taking the letters and solemnly walking to her father's study.

"Enter," comes the gruff voice after she knocks. She walks in and bows to him.

"My lord, you summoned me?" Elaina asks.

"You don't know how proud I am of you," Magyr says sleazily. Elaina tries not to let the poison words seep in after such a fun day. "You know, I never thought you would actually be able to make something of yourself. But know you've peaked the prince's interest and you're officially being considered as a potential bride. This isn't some sick joke. Next week, I want you to ensnare him, make him only want you, make him see you are the only option."

"I don't even know how I caught his interest. How am I supposed to—ah!" Magyr smacks her for talking back.

"That _natural charm_ you've got," Magyr chuckles, as if he didn't just hit his daughter. "I wouldn't be surprised if you got it from _him, _just like the rest of your magic."

"I-In order to convince his grace, I'll need to know a little more. Why is being his wife that important? Surely, marrying me off to him will give him more power over me than you—" she bites her lip as he is smacked again.

"You stupid, ignorant girl. Queens are the silent power behind their Kings. I will still have control over you. You know—or perhaps you're too stupid to see—how easy it would be to make my beatings look like his if he were to try to take my place over you," Magyr chuckles. "Even if he is the _lesser_ prince, you'll still have more political power than now. And it will be mine to control. Now, tell me about what his interest is in you now? You recently talked with him, did you not?"

"We were discussing my merits and I asked why he picked me. Apparently he likes my charm," Elaina keeps her voice steady. She dare not let the hate for the man in front of her get out or else he will just beat her more.


	7. 7 - Loki

Thanks everyone for reading and reviewing!

* * *

Waiting is one of the most annoying things ever. The Mad Hatter's note said she would be at the clock tower when it struck midnight, interrupting everyone's sleep. She is supposed to be stealing one of the tools used on the clock. The wrench currently sitting in his lap. The entire room has already been magiced, so the only way in is through the stairs. There are a variety of guards placed along the winding staircase.

Kvasir still believes she'll be able to get in and at least close enough to Loki for him to capture her. Loki doesn't see how she can get past the guards. His attention flies to the stairs as he hears Kvasir give the password.

"She's got a few minutes," Kvasir says, looking up at the clock face. "I hate it when she does late night things like this."

"Must be tough for you," Loki says after magically checking to make sure Kvasir is really who he says he is.

"Thank you for your help. I never thought we would be able to have such a talented magician help us," Kvasir admits.

"You're right, she pulled me in. Mainly angered me. And that's never a good idea," Loki scoffs as Kvasir yawns.

"Thirty seconds," a guard says.

"Maybe she won't make it this time… that still doesn't help in capturing her, but at least it's one stopped attempt," Kvasir points out. Loki doubts it. Or, more accurately, hopes that is not an option. The Mad Hatter is mighty entertaining, and proving a sufficient distraction from choosing a woman as his bride.

Absently, as the clock strikes midnight, he swipes a fly off the wrench only for cold to rush through his body as the gonging fades into nothing. Simultaneously, a body crashes onto the floor. Hardly able to move, he notices the vibrant green hair, flamboyantly painted mask, and tight outfit, meant to get in and out of places easily.

"Y-you," Loki struggles to say. The Mad Hatter chuckles and points to the intricate silver necklace around her neck.

"You only marginally can move outside of time, simply because you touched me as I enacted the spell," she says as she stands and brushes herself off. He glares at her and she chuckles again. "Ah, it must burn you, a master of magic, to not be able to counter this."

"I beg your pardon?" Loki scoffs offended. Slowly the cold seeps out of him and he knows he can move, but he doesn't dare show it.

"Oh you will beg," she scoffs. Without warning, he lunges at her, dropping the wrench in the process and time starts again as they crash against the floor. She phases through it, accidently pulling Loki with her. In the open air, she kicks him as they fall. He crashes into a wall, barely finding something to catch him.

From one of the markings on her wrist, a golden chain lunges out and crashes through the ceiling. It anchors her and she swings out, phasing through the wall. Loki discovers her anchor was the wrench as it flies through the air with the whips.

Using all the magic he can muster, he puts a barrier around the wrench, stopping it in midair. The whip jerks, and quickly the Mad Hatter phases back into the room, swinging up onto a ledge. Glaring at Loki, she manually pulls the whip, piece by piece, towards her.

"It is not a good idea to anger me," she scolds. Seeing as he can't keep her from reeling the whip in, he drops his magic and teleports behind her. She obviously wasn't expecting that as the sudden jerk down knocks her off her feet. Loki barely catches her. "Thanks."

"You thank me even though you're in a position you do not want to be in?" Loki mocks.

"I would have thought you had learned by now," she mocks back and they start falling, phasing through everything. They end up crashing into the sewers.

Winded, but persistent, she yanks the wrench toward her. Unfortunately for her, Loki is between her and it. He catches it, trying his best not to be distracted as the whip melts into the symbol on her wrist.

"We can do this the hard way or the easy way," Loki taunts.

"How about the nice way?" she grabs the wrench with both hands but isn't strong enough to pull it out of his impressive grip.

"Not going to happen," Loki banters.

"Then the not so nice way it is," she smirks and then kicks him below the belt. Cringing, his grip on the wrench loosens just enough for her to rip it out of his hands. He chases after her, almost catching her many times.

They make it to one of the many openings that dumps the sewer water into the bay. She jumps. Loki stays perched on the edge, waiting for her to resurface. A full five minutes pass before he realizes he lost her somehow.

He uses some tracking magic to try to find her, and finds nothing. He angrily punches the wall, taking deep, calming breaths. He teleports back to Kvasir and delivers the bad news. The older man empathizes, having had many such chases before.

His anger is pliable the next day.

* * *

A few days later, he arrives last to the lunch with his women because of a particularly tough Soul Spell. The first thing he notices is Sigyn and Elaina chatting happily, with Angrbooda and Amora listening politely.

"Loki!" Amora shouts, noticing him. The others greet him the same as he joins them. "Are you free in six months?"

"Why?" Loki eyes her suspiciously.

"My dance class is joining with the theater production and we're putting on a play then," Elaina explains.

"I'm going to audition next week," Sigyn adds.

"You should come," Amora states.

"I'll remember that," Loki agrees.

"So, how have things been recently?" Angrbooda asks.

"Normal," Loki shrugs. "You?"

"I keep trying to train your pansies, but they're as weak as babes!" Angrbrooda whines.

"Why train them?" Loki asks curiously.

"Because anything could happen! They need to be strong in case of a natural disaster, rebellion, or a war breaks out," Angrbooda scoffs. At 'rebellion' Loki looks at her oddly. He's known Angrbooda for a long time—since they were kids, Thor and him would be sent to her mountain lands to learn how to fight. He never took her as the type to be the Mad Hatter… The conversation moves on, with him constantly trying to convince himself that she is or is not the Mad Hatter. By the end, he figures she is too tall, but wonders if that wasn't just some magical trick.

Once the afternoon is done, Loki requests a massage from Bravossi—as skill the prince didn't know he had until recently.

"So the Mad Hatter changes her appearance, right?" Loki asks.

"Yes," Bravossi admits.

"Does that include height?" Loki asks.

"Anyone can do that putting on heels," Bravossi says.

"But she doesn't magically do it?" Loki presses.

"She is a shapeshifter," Bravossi admits. "However, unless she's really into a disguise, she doesn't put that much effort into changing her body shape. May I ask why?"

"I thought she might be someone, but that someone is too tall," Loki says. A gentle sigh escapes his lips as Bravossi kneads a particularly tough knot.

"May I ask who you thought it was, your grace?" Bravossi asks.

"My friend, Angrbooda," Loki admits and Bravossi chuckles.

"I can assure you that the giantess is too tall," Bravossi says.

"What species is your friend?" Loki asks.

"Part Alfheim, Part Vanir," Bravossi says. Loki looks up at him suspiciously.

"You won't give me a name, but you'll tell me that?" Loki asks incredulously.

"There are plenty of people like that," Bravossi states.

"Not in this realm," Loki argues.

"Whatever gave you the impression that she lives here?" Bravossi teases.

"She grew up here, and is a noble," Loki states, watching Bravossi's shocked reaction. Bravossi just starts laughing again.

"I suppose I did tell you that," Bravossi admits. "Did you use that to rule out Lady Angrbooda?"

"Partially," Loki admits. "Lower."

"You're more stressed than you normally are," Bravossi obeys. "May I ask why, your grace?"

"I met your mad friend again," Loki states. "And then I lost her."

"I did warn you she is hard to find, even harder to tame," Bravossi reminds.

"What are the limits of her ability to phase?" Loki ignores him.

"She can phase through anything, and anyone. If she pulls you along with her, it's because she wants to. Why, I cannot say, even if I am there to watch," Bravossi shrugs. "It's her soul spell."

"What are the symbols on her wrist?" Loki asks.

"Their name would require quite the fuck," Bravossi chuckles. "But it's another kind of Soul Spell—kind of. I'm not sure you've gotten to that part of her book. Soul Spells that can be passed through blood?"

"Not yet," Loki admits, summoning the book and flipping through it.

"It takes a few generations, but a Soul Spell can be honed and passed on," Bravossi explains. "The Mad Hatter comes from a long line of Soul Spell users. This was passed down to her, from a very long line. The ability is… essentially it gives her a certain amount of material that she can manipulate into anything. She favors a chain, uses a sword for short range and a bow with magic bolts for long range. But it can be made into anything."

"Is there any other magics that she uses, besides Soul Spells?" Loki asks.

"She likes mixing potions and poisons," Bravossi thinks. "She doesn't use magic as you're used to as often as you would think. She relies a bit too heavily on Soul Spells. But she does know some more simple ones. Teleportation—of herself, others, and objects. Simple telekinesis. She likes using magic tools, and seems to be able to use every one she touches, even if she's not the thing the legend calls for. You know, like how the Seer's Stone supposedly only works for a royal of Asgardian blood, or the Norns."

"Does she have the Seer's Stone?" Loki asks suspiciously.

"Yes," Bravossi sighs.

"You mean the one in the vault is a fake?" Loki demands. "When did she steal it?!"

"That one has always been a fake," Bravossi admits. "Lord Kryst didn't publically admit she targeted the stone from him before he sold it to the royal museum. Considering she left an identical-looking piece there, he didn't think she stole it."

"But that happened three hundred years ago. How old is she?" Loki asks.

"Just over 400," Bravossi states. For Asgardian culture, that is a fairly young adult.

"How could no one have noticed that it was a fake?" Loki demands.

"Have you ever bothered checking, your grace?" Bravossi asks.

"Of course not, it's supposed to be the real one," Loki replies.

"That's why. When someone believes something, let them. It's one of the best ways to manipulate someone—at least, that's what the Mad Hatter believes," Bravossi states. Loki looks at him suspiciously again.

"What would happen if I check it?" Loki asks.

"It would throw insults at you. It's made of glass with humor spells in it. If you broke it open, you would find her note," Bravossi replies.

"You know quite a bit about this," Loki accuses.

"I've been her friend for a long time, your grace. She has told me about many of her exploits," Bravossi admits.

"Are there other things in the museum that are fakes?" Loki asks.

"Yes," Bravossi admits.

"Which ones?" Loki asks.

"That would take all afternoon, so I'll just write you a list," Bravossi says. "About 20% is fake."

"You're joking!" Loki exclaims, looking at him as if he was crazy.

"I'll get you that list by tomorrow," Bravossi promises.

"And make sure you include what would happen if someone checked," Loki orders.

"Yes your grace," Bravossi replies.

"I have another question," Loki states after a few moments of silence.

"Yes, your grace?" Bravossi asks.

"I've been studying the theory of Soul Spells and haven't quite been able to understand the theory behind opening your soul. How would you explain it?" Loki asks.

"It's so second nature to me I'm going to have to take a moment to think," Bravossi admits. Loki rolls over and watches the expressions dance across his face. "It take the idea of who I am and step inside."

"Ok," Loki looks at him. "And then?"

"Just start meditating, reaching for your own soul. Seriously, sit up and meditate right now. This will go better if we try it," Bravossi motions impatiently. Loki sits up and calms his body, closing his eyes to meditate.

He builds up the image of a prince, like instructed and attempts to step inside.

"What now?" Loki asks.

"You're not really inside if you can't feel the magic," Bravossi sighs. Loki glares at him, only to find Bravossi spinning water around them. "I'm trying to enhance the experience as much as possible, creating a soul resonance. If you have the right image, this will work. That's been the only issue in the past, having the right image."

"Fine," Loki tries again. This time, he concentrates on who he really is. Who he is behind the prince. The first thing that comes to mind is his books. He is a wealth of knowledge. From this knowledge, he has gained an immense amount of magical power—but a different type of magic than what he is going for.

When he starts to feel calmer, almost warmer, he thinks he is getting close. He opens his eyes and can see the faintest magic light flash across Bravossi's skin before it vanishes.

"I saw…" Loki suddenly isn't sure.

"Can you still see it?" Bravossi asks.

"No," Loki admits.

"You let go of yourself," Bravossi explains. "You have to keep concentrated on it. Try again."


	8. 8 - The Families: Elaina Tyalroy

Loki x Amora sex at end

* * *

Out of the wooden carriage steps Magyr, in his finest merchant robes, followed by his wife in a plain red dress. As he helps Elaina out, he roughly squeezes her arm to remind her about what she must do. She is supposed to make Prince Loki fall in love with her.

Hence her dress a deep, dark emerald that nearly matches Loki's eyes. It is accented in gold bits of metal on her shoulders and hips. The sleeves are an opaque silk, open and loose as the trimming attaches to a tiny golden chain that connects to her bracelets. The dress ends just at her feet, though the few inches of heel her shoes add prevent the dress from dragging. It too has a slit, coming up to her mid-thigh. The same opaque material connects it, making such a long slit decent. Her chocolate hair has been curled and twisted up in a bun, with a gold and emerald chain accenting it.

She follows as the servants lead her family to the royal family's private dining rooms. She does her best to hide her nerves, more out of fear of her father than of trying to appear confident.

Once inside the beautifully decorated room the King and Queen welcome her parents, who give them gifts. Loki strides up to her, looking over her outfit.

"My parents insisted I wear it," Elaina mumbles after they say hello.

"It's beautiful on you. I am trying to figure out what tailor made this. It's exquisite," Loki looks over her again.

"I… uh… it's actually something I made," Elaina admits.

"You can sew this wonderfully?" Loki asks, wondering if this is another one of her hidden talents. He would be surprised to of misjudged a person so much.

"No, it's one of those prop things I made," Elaina explains. "I'm able to draw fairly well, which is part of what you need to make them."

"Welcome, welcome," Odin's voice booms, cutting off all conversations. "We are pleased to host the Tyalroy family this evening for dinner. This is a friendship we hope to nurture and maintain for years to come. Tonight, let's start by feasting together."

"Thank you for having us," Elaina's family bows politely.

"I insist on this gift, as a token of good will between our families," Magyr motions to Zarai, who is holding a box. She opens it, then offers it to Loki. Inside is a cape of a direwolf—fairly uncommon, and perhaps the best gift the Tyalroy family can give. After all, they are the most famous direwolf trainers in Asgard.

When it is time to eat, Odin sits at the head of the table with Frigga on his right, Magyr on his left. Elaina sits between the queen and Loki, and across from her mother. Servants bring out food.

Elaina half listens for mention of her among the parents, while discussing with Loki how her clothes-changing things are made. When she admits that Amora has summoned her a few times to work on making armor, he asks to be included next time.

After dessert, the parents move to a more comfortable room to keep talking while Elaina and Loki are given leave to find entertainment elsewhere. Loki leads her down a hall, with large windows that overlook the garden below.

"Has there been auditions yet?" Loki asks.

"We're currently in the process, no one has officially been picked yet," Elaina replies.

"Did Sigyn end up auditioning?" Loki asks.

"Yes," Elaina answers.

"I cannot wait to see two of my friends perform in this production. What is the play?" Loki asks.

"_The Maiden's Trial_," Elaina states. "I've auditioned for nameless, wordless parts. Sigyn is brave auditioning for 'Cinders Ella', and the 'Mother of Fairies'."

"Lovely. I can't wait to hear what part she gets next week," Loki says. "Do you know if she is any good?"

"Yes, she is. She puts her whole heart into it and it is a joy to watch her perform," Elaina smiles. "I have even taken her under my wing, you could say. I'm teaching her to dance."

"Such wonderful talents. I can't wait to see you on stage," Loki compliments.

"Thank you, your grace," Elaina flushes.

"Not among friends," Loki gently chides.

"Sorry… Loki," Elaina says.

"So you teach Sigyn dance, you make potions with Amora, the armor no doubt Angrbooda will commission you for. You have done a brilliant job using this to your advantage. You're proving as strategic as when I first met you," Loki compliments, trying to figure out how she views this.

"You are observant, your grace," Elaina smiles. Not quite the reaction he was hoping for.

"Obviously I see many things," Loki states, only for Elaina to smirk as if enjoying a private joke. "Does something I said catch your fancy?"

"With as observant as you are, I would have thought you would have learned by now I find many things entertaining," Elaina says kindly.

"Perhaps you could let me in on your joke?" Loki presses, not sure what she is getting at. Sure, he knows she likes to laugh, especially at Angrbooda's jokes, but he didn't say anything that funny.

"There was no joke, y… Loki," Elaina says, slightly flustered.

"I can get it out of you the hard way or the easy way," Loki presses teasingly. She chuckles.

"What, no nice way? Fine, I'll tell you. I merely found your wording funny," Elaina replies. He knows he's heard that phrase somewhere before, but can't quite place it.

"Are you enjoying your new friends?" Loki asks, trying to analyze her again.

"Yes, thank you for introducing them to me," Elaina says graciously. "As you said, I have found most of the relationships quite beneficial."

"Most?" Loki asks.

"I'll be able to benefit from with them even if you don't pick me," Elaina explains. "But, so far, if you don't pick me, I see no real benefit to your friendship. Yes, being friends with a prince is nice, but it won't always be like this, weekly and monthly meetings as friends for the sake of getting to know each other and entertainment."

"You've spent quite a bit of time thinking about this," Loki points out.

"It's the answer you were originally seeking for. We both know you won't pick me, so this is more or less a waste of time," Elaina responds, calling him out yet again.

"With me, what would you offer me, so I may offer you something in return and we can both benefit. I would rather not waste your time," Loki replies kindly.

"Memories would be nice, but that's probably not what you meant," Elaina sighs.

"Memories? Of?" Loki asks, his curiosity perked. Elaina looks away, blushing.

"I shouldn't have said that," Elaina mumbles. She gasps when he quickly pulls her into a shadow and pins her between him and the wall. With the close proximity, she is forced to look up at him.

"You mean this?" Loki asks seductively. He watches as Elaina bites her lip, not from nerves or desire, but something else. The unnamed emotion flits across her features and make Loki wonder if he was wrong.

"This works," Elaina finally whispers.

"What type of memories would you like to make?" Loki matches her tone, one hand gently sliding down her side to the slit in her dress.

"Loki…" Elaina whispers, eyes focusing on his lips as she blushes. He knows better than to chuckle aloud, though he wants to because of her blushing virgin act.

"Yes, my Elaina?" Loki whispers into her ear, gently nuzzling against her neck.

"You're such a tease," Elaina whispers. The edge of his mind wants to reconsider his virgin judgment of her.

"You were such much braver last time," Loki teases. "You just nestled against me like this." Loki pulls her slightly closer. "And kissed me like this." He kisses her cheek. "I fear your courage failed you, for you missed your target by a few inches."

He gently presses his lips against hers—so chaste he isn't sure he wants to call it a kiss yet. But then she reacts, timidly testing different pressures. He pulls back to let her breathe, and discovers her breathing shallowly. She pushes against him the second time, her kiss becoming bolder as they spend some time in the shadow, simply enjoying the pleasure.

"Ah," she gasps in shock and he gets even closer still. A slight smirk darts across her lips, stopping him. "You're obviously enjoying this," she says in such a seductive tone that makes him truly wonder if she is a virgin. She can feel him completely pressed against her, the warmth of their bodies a comfort on this cold night.

"Though I'm sure memories wouldn't be your only gift," he whispers into her ear as he gently grinds against her. "I am delighted to give you a few of these. How can I resist such a beauty?"

They hear footsteps and Loki pulls back and checks. "Just a guard."

"Perhaps we should be getting back?" Elaina asks.

"I thought you wanted to make memories," Loki jests.

"Loki," Elaina pouts.

"I suppose we can another time," Loki chuckles and leads her out of the shadows. "For now, perhaps we can figure out another way to mutually benefit?"

"I do not have very many talents for you to take advantage of," Elaina admits.

"It's not your talents I want to take advantage of," Loki seductively says, earning a gasp from her. Soon, Bravossi informs them that they are requested back with the parents.

* * *

scene change, sex starts

* * *

Finally able to be alone in his room, Loki finds the direwolf cloak hanging in his closet. He holds it out in front of him, looking it over. He scrutinizes the designs sewn into it. Some he recognizes as traditional direwolf symbols, others are spells. One is to help regulate body temperature. Another helps keep the pitch black fur clean.

Twirling it over his shoulders, he examines how it looks in the mirror. It comes to his waist, like most cloaks do. Adjusting it, he discovers pockets and is happy to find them large enough to hold a couple of his daggers and other useful items. Standing there for a few moments, he feels the room warm up slightly thanks to the spells.

"Dashing," Amora whispers into his ear. He smirks at her. "A direwolf cloak from the Tyalroy family. That's quite a gift. I can't wait to see what the next one gets you."

"What do you want?" Loki asks, his tone pleasant. She pouts.

"Do you know how much harder things have been since you picked me?" Amora pouts. "Especially since you took me from that one guy in the library? I haven't had sex for three days!"

"And what do you expect me to do about it?" Loki chuckles.

"What you do best," Amora's voice drips with desire into his ear.

"All you have to do is ask," Loki holds back a groan.

"Please take me?" Amora nibbles his ear.

"Ah, Amora," Loki sighs. Lithe hands travel up his chest, tracing every muscle they can through his thin tunic. With just a tug of the material, Loki knows what she is asking for and obliges. His shirt reappears on a hanger, letting her warm hands kneed his muscles.

"I bet you can't get this from _her_," Amora teases.

"She tried," Loki shakes his head. "Wanted to _make memories_. Useless girl."

"Then why did you pick her?" Amora asks.

"She's fun to play with. Reminds me of you when we were kids," Loki regrets that as she gasps, offended, and removes her hands. He catches them, holding her close.

"You want to make a copy of me?" Amora asks.

"Never, that girl would break far beforehand," Loki tries to get back on course. "There could never be two of you."

"Just like there could never be two of you," Amora smirks and steps close. She jumps when she feels the lightest touch of lips to her neck. She turns to see one of Loki's copies there. "But how? Copies aren't solid."

"Mother taught me some new tricks," Loki smirks.

"Let's see how well you've mastered him," Amora steps flat against Loki and starts kissing his neck. The copy pins her between the two of them and mimics her moves. Loki holds onto the wall, groaning as she grinds back against the copy. For the smallest moment, the copy losses its physicality, but he quickly recovers.

"Aw… he reacts just like you," Amora whispers into Loki's ear before nibbling at it.

"You play dirty," Loki accuses.

"I got you on that one," Amora teases. "Turn around, I want to see how you look in that." She guides him back against the wall, examining his naked torso lined in midnight fir. "She may be useless, but what you can get from her family is certainly appreciated."

"Glad you like it," Loki smirks. "I was considering wearing it while taking you."

"That would be hot—literally and figuratively," Amora admits.

"Heat regulating spells," Loki chuckles.

"Ok, we're definitely using it," Amora says excitedly. "I wonder, is it bad manners to use a gift as a sex toy?"

"Only if you tell them about it," Loki smirks. He pulls her to him, crashing a kiss upon her. In surprise, she moans into him, allowing him into her mouth. She allows him to dominate for a moment, before taking over. His hands grope at her dress while hers scratch his back under the fir.

"Somebody wants something," Loki says when they take a breath.

"I always want you," Amora's voice drips with seduction.

"Mine," Loki nearly growls as he attacks her neck with kisses, intent on marking her skin. She moans as he works the muscle of her neck.

"Oh, yes, yes," Amora whimpers as he tugs harder at her dress. "Just get rid of them already. And just like that their clothes are gone. He tumbles her back onto the couch in his dressing room, grinding against her in a way he knows will make her scream

And scream she does. However, she quickly recovers and scratches her nails down his back, edging him on. He passionately, almost animalistic, devours her sanity through his hands and lips.

She screams in pleasure again as a second mouth licks at her clit. The pleasure overwhelming any shock at having his copy there. She grinds her hips against the second head, moaning for more.

All too willing to give it, he ravishes her mouth again, playing with her sensitive spots. His hands rub her pert nipples. With four spots of outside pleasure, all she can do is tumble over her climax with a scream that tests the limits of his sound proof spells.

He caresses her cheek as she recovers, the clone gently kissing her inner thigh. When her eyes finally focuses on his, she shyly smiles up at him. "I wanna test your limits again."

"Oh, Amora," Loki sighs, excited. She turns him around and captures his cock with her mouth. A soft groan escapes his mouth as those lips gently massage her clit. She moans in response, readjusting to get more of him in her mouth.

The copy maneuvers to lap at her lower lips, gently pushing their way in. With patients, he finds her g-spot. She moans around his cock, speeding up. It doesn't take long for him to lost hold of his magic for the first time. Suddenly the pressure on her g-spot is gone, then it is back.

As she teases his cock, his grasps slips more, the copy fading in and out of physicality. The pleasure from that only spurs her on. She grabs his ass with one hand and digs her nails in, just the way he likes as she sucks deeper around his cock. The other hand grabs the fir, pulling it, pressing the cord against his sharp collar increasing the pleasure.

Barely able to control his body, Loki spills into her mouth with a deep growl, as the copy fading away.

"That was fun," Amora smirks. "I think I like our new toy."

"Yes," Loki agrees. "Too bad the person who gave it to me can't hold a candle to you."

"Perhaps I should help you with that?" Amora teases.

"I'd love to know your game," Loki smirks.


	9. 9 - The Families: Nanna Tyniva

As always, thanks for reading.

Thanks for the review, Angel897

* * *

If he didn't know better, Thor would say Nanna used his cape to make a dress, and used gold bobbles to make it fit better. After he helps her out of the carriage politely, she lifts her skirts to curtsey, exposing gold sandals. Sif warned him that lesser nobles attempt would attempt to seduce the princes by dressing in their colors. Loki's first woman, Lady Elaina Tyalroy, used Loki's emerald, black and silver; it appears Lady Nanna is doing the same with his gold and red.

"You look wonderful tonight," Thor compliments.

"Thank you," Nanna curtseys again.

"I hope you had an enjoyable ride," Thor small talks as Nanna's father and mother are greeted by Odin and Frigga.

"Oh, yes, it was. I missed some of the sights, though, because of how nervous I am," Nanna smiles shyly. He can't quite tell if it is an act or not—something his mother warned him about. Though Nanna is famous for her songs, she is also an actress and may use that to her advantage.

"Welcome, welcome," Odin's voice booms, cutting off all conversations. "We are pleased to host the Tyniva family this evening for dinner. This is a friendship we hope to nurture and maintain for years to come. Tonight, let's start by feasting together."

"Thank you for having us," Nanna's family bows politely.

"Please, accept our gift as a token of good fortune," Dagr, Nanna's father, motions to the servants behind them. The open boxes the hold exposes a beautiful dress for Frigga, and cloaks for Odin, Thor, and Loki.

They proceed to the table as the servants take the gifts away. Odin sits at the head of the table with Frigga on his right, Dagr on his left. Nanna sits between the Queen and Thor, and across from her mother, Demitria. Servants bring out food.

The meal is lamb, and thoroughly enjoyed. The cake for dessert is even more so, and Nanna even asks Thor for the recipie. After dinner, the conversations move from polite small talk to the reason for this meeting.

"We certainly appreciate the chance to formally meet you, your grace," Dagr says politely. "And for the chance for my daughter to meet your son."

"It is a pleasure to host you," Odin replies. "Tell me, how has your plantation been prospering?"

The dowry talk. Thor doesn't like it, for it makes people sound like cattle. As the conversation proceeds, he realizes that Nanna has a slightly higher than average dowry (8,000 – 10,000 gold pieces). He mentally cringes, comparing her to what he knows of the others.

Vor is of Vanaheim, and their dowries are small, due to the last war with Asgard. They haven't recovered to the near equals to Asgard, but are fairly close. Another issue with Vanaheim is that they decided to drop the dowry practice after that war. Vor would have very little going for her—if she has anything at all.

Kyra would probably have the highest, being from the wealthiest merchant family of Asgard. There are issues with that, too. He has heard things about the business inheritance going to her, instead of her uncle like is tradition. He means to ask her more when it is her family's turn, next week.

Sif is the one he is most worried about. She is Odin's ward because of a promise between her and Bor—Odin's father. As such, the royal family has been building a dowry for her; Frigga made sure of that. However, the incentive to marry the prince to a ward of the crown is low. Yes, all that money that is originally theirs would come back to them. That is a disappointing feeling, one many nobles dislike.

After participating respectably in the dowry talk, Odin leads the family on a small tour of the palace. Frigga whispers to Thor that this is meant to be a time for Thor and Nanna to wander off and have some private time.

"Is there anywhere particular you would like to see?" Thor asks, with Nanna on his arm.

"Perhaps we could see the royal gardens? The ones your mother works on? I hear they are always exquisite," Nanna suggest. With a quick nod from Frigga, Thor leads her away.

After opening the gate, they walk down the cobble path admiring the flowers. Nanna gasps in awe at how vibrant and large they are.

"You really are lucky," Nanna gently caresses a rose. "Your mother certainly has a gift for gardening. This is the only place those grow so big. And those are such a pure blue. I would love to learn a few of her techniques."

"Perhaps she would be willing to take on an apprentice for this hobby," Thor suggests as they walk around. He never realized how different these plants are, and sees them from a new light.

"Oh, that would be wonderful," Nanna sighs contently. Then she pulls a little closer to him. "Burr. It's cold in here, isn't it?"

"Perhaps it is just a little chilly," Thor admits. "Would you like my cape?"

"Wouldn't you be cold?" Nanna gasps.

"A warrior is more robust than that," Thor chuckles. He takes off his cape and wraps it around her shoulders. She snuggles into it, pulling it tight. On hand remains on his arm, and she appreciatively looks at his muscles.

"Yes, such a grand warrior is _certainly_ more robust than that," Nanna flirts. "Thank you. You are very kind."

"I could not stand to have you be so cold," Thor admits, letting her take a step closer. He mentally chalks it up to allowing her closer for body heat, but even he cannot deny he enjoys the close presence of beautiful women.

"Do I look good in it?" Nanna asks. Thor looks her over.

"How can you not, in my colors?" Thor flirts.

"Wonderful to know I look so beautiful drowning in scarlet," Nanna chuckles.

"Is there anywhere else you would like to see before we head back?" Thor asks.

"I…" Nanna bites her lower lip nervously. "I've heard about a special rose garden that your mother tends. It's from Vanaheim. It has gold stems and gold lined petals. Do we have enough time to see that?"

"Of course," Thor gently leads her into Frigga's private gardens. The rose bush is in the center, with most of the roses as buds. "I did not know it was not in bloom yet. I apologize."

"No need, it's beautiful," Nanna holds his arm tighter and chuckles. "I look even more like it now, don't I?"

"I suppose you do," Thor looks fondly at the plant. He remembers the few times Frigga gave him and Loki blossoms off this bush.

"Do you know if it is anything more than beautiful?" Nanna asks.

"More than beautiful?" Thor asks.

"Are the medicinal properties to this plant? Is that real gold or just coloring? And why are the stems green? I thought they would be gold," Nanna explains.

"The stems turn gold after they are plucked," Thor remembers his mother picking some fondly. "You would have to ask my mother about the properties. I know a few, and they are meant to represent promises I made to my mother."

"What sort of promises?" Nanna asks sweetly.

"There were three," Thor lists. "That I would always protect my brother. That I would always be a good person. And that I would do everything in my power to protect Asgard—even if one day I have to make a decision I cannot face. That is what it means to lead."

"Those are honorable promises," Nanna smiles.

"Would you like me to summon my mother to ask about the properties?" Thor asks.

"Oh. If you would be so kind, I would appreciate that," Nanna says. He leaves her there to talk to the servant at the gate to the garden. While they are distracted, Nanna plucks a small rose off a stem hidden underneath and in the back and tucks it into her dress.

Thor returns with the guard, who then explains there are various ways to use the plants. It is a very versatile plant, where the petals, when mixed with the proper ingredients, can become a healing ointment, balm, or poison. The gold is pure gold, and the gold of the stem can be crushed to make a magical powder. The petal gold can become the antidote to the poison.

They soon return to their parents, and Nanna offers to sing for them. She insists on repaying them for their kindness with her best talent.

Once they have left, and Thor tells her where he took Nanna, Frigga examines her rose bush. She would chalk up the missing bud as Thor trying to be romantic—and that would be ok. But he didn't include that detail and it is typically something he would say. Plus, she taught him how to cut these bushes properly. Whoever did this mangled the stem, and killed it so the rest of that stem becomes black, and toxic to touch.

At Nanna's home, Nanna presents the rose to her father and explains the qualities.

"This is wonderful. _He_ will most appreciate this. Thank you," Dagr says.

"Anything for my family," Nanna curtseys.


	10. 10 - The Mad Hatter

As always, thanks for reading.

Warning: aggressive sex between Amora & Loki

* * *

After receiving their parts in the upcoming play, Elaina and Sigyn find themselves staring at a table full of cakes, with Loki, Amora and Angrbooda congratulating them.

"You certainly have a sweet tooth," Amora laughs at Elaina during a lull in the conversation.

"I can't help it if this cake is so good," Elaina playfully defends.

"It's a little sparse on the flour, but still fluffy enough," Amora admits. "Hey, Loki, can you get me the recipe book?" Amora asks. Elaina, Sigyn, and Angrbooda groan playfully. Loki tells a servant to.

"You're going to switch ingredients and then feed them to your cat again, aren't you?" Sigyn asks softly.

"You've meet Lydia?" Elaina asks, suddenly worried that she is the only one who didn't know the others before this.

"Only recently," Sigyn admits, chasing Elaina's fears away. "For as much as healing and potion making interact, I hardly knew Amora. I certainly didn't know she tested new potions on her cat. I'm worried about Lydia's health."

"You tested her a few days ago and she's fine," Amora pouts.

"Did I miss something?" Elaina worries.

"When you and your family met with him and his," Angrbooda points at Loki, "Amora and I kidnapped Sigyn to get to know her better. We'll do the same with you next time."

"Oh, I suppose I should ask my father's permission," Elaina worries.

"Nonsense, you're an adult. You don't need permission," Angrbooda jests.

"All the same, my parents would worry if I didn't show up for dinner randomly," Elaina forces a smiles. Though no one says anything, they can tell. Angrbooda's grey eyes meet Amora's green ones temporarily.

"Sure, here's what we plan on doing," Amora ignores the giantess and hands Elaina a card with the info.

"Thank you," Elaina takes it.

A different servant arrives and bows next to Loki.

"Where's the book?" Loki asks.

"I am unaware of what book you summoned. I come bearing a note you requested," the servant hands Loki an envelope, with a lavender wax seal. Immediately he knows what happened. He instructed all palace servants to deliver notes from the Mad Hatter to him first.

"What's that?" Sigyn asks.

"A note from a thief," Loki sighs as he opens it.

"The Mad Hatter?" Amora asks.

"How do you know about her?" Loki eyes her suspiciously.

"There's a few sections in the palace library full of her stuff," Amora shrugs. "Also, my aunt's common folk have been hit and treated by her. What's she claiming this time?"

"The cookbook for the cake," Loki reads aloud.

"It is damn fine cake," Angrbooda shrugs and the others agree. Though years of knowing Angrbooda and Amora, Loki wonders if one or both of them is the Mad Hatter. Though he doesn't fully believe his thrall, Bravossi did say that the Mad Hatter is the daughter of a noble. His previous friendship and history with them is a big factor stopping him from solidifying the accusation in his mind. Thinking along the lines that she could be a noble's daughter, Loki quickly looks over Elaina's and Sigyn's reactions as well.

The majority of his mind wants to tell him that they have been with him this whole time. That they couldn't have left the note. They're innocent.

Except for the fact that the Mad Hatter has a network of people, like Bravossi, that could leave notes in her place. That could do things for her.

* * *

Sitting curled up in a high cupboard for hours requires lots of patients. Something the Mad Hatter pretends she has plenty of. Her coat itches. Her mask is uncomfortable. She's about to give up all hope that Loki believed her little charade earlier.

He finally follows some guards into the kitchen. She can hear him talking to the Lord Kvasir. "Why would anyone want to steal a recipe book? Isn't that odd?"

"Not from the Mad Hatter," Kvasir replies. "She's stolen everything from infected baby teeth—she took it straight out of the kid's mouth—to a mass produced dress to things as important as what you have witnessed. Most of her targets are odder things. While I would like to think there is some secret hidden in this book, I doubt there is."

"Maybe it's code?" Loki says as he opens the book. It certainly is worn, and has had virtually everything spilt on it. He reads over the recipes. They're methodical and logical. As he reads them, and all of the notes, he is vaguely reminded of some of his spell books. Over time, many of his have ended up in the same condition.

Finding nothing useful, he angrily closes the book.

"My question is why does she have to choose lunch time? We blocked off the kitchen and are delaying lunch. Perhaps we should have had it moved…" Kvasir says.

"Perhaps we should have burnt it," Loki always wondered what would happen if one of the Mad Hatter's targets was destroyed. He opens it again, trying to figure it out.

"Perhaps you should just hand it over," the Mad Hatter says, tumbling out of the cabinet, onto the counter between Loki and Kvasir. They stare at her flour covered, bright pink coat and braided orange hair. The mask is the same.

"Guards," Kvasir orders.

"No!" Loki counters, but it's too late. The guards phase right through her. She grabs one and phases him through the floor. Then another. The rest back off.

"Cheater!" Kvasir bites.

"And you say that with a master of magic right beside you, who you rely on for help. Understand this, having a new person is entertainment. The only reason why I am even allowing you to get close. This is the closest we've been since, ah, what's it been, three years?" the Mad Hatter taunts.

"You can't maintain that spell forever," Kvasir says, ignoring her words. Loki lets them roll off of him as well, it is nothing he hasn't heard before.

"I don't have to. I just have to walk away," she banters.

"Why do you want this book?" Loki demands, securing it under his arm.

"Because it has delicious cakes in it," her honest reply surprises Loki. "Will you hand it over or shall we do this the hard way?"

In response, Loki teleports out.

"Now that's not fair," the Mad Hatter announces before walking out. The guards try to chase her, but she is never where they predict.

Loki waits in his rooms, half trying to decode the book, half keeping a lookout for the Mad Hatter. She phases through the ceiling and tumbles onto his bed. She giggles as she bounces.

"Couldn't wait to get in my bed?" Loki taunts.

"Maybe, maybe not," she flirts back as she walks up to him, stopping just out of arm's reach. She holds out her arms impatiently. "Give me the book and I promise the next time I see you like this, I'll leave a cake in place of whatever I steal."

"And I'm to believe that?" Loki mocks disbelief.

"Has Kvasir told you about his nephew?" she asks.

"How did you know I was in here?" Loki changes the subject.

"Honestly, I guessed," she looks around. "I always wanted to know what the sparkling green eyed prince kept in his private rooms."

"Why do you leave things?" he asks.

"Information is worth something. If I answer your questions, will you give me the book?" she asks.

"Answer five questions, and you have a deal," he offers. She pouts, debating her options. He could be stalling. He could be lying.

"If you make me regret trusting your offer, you will have Hell to pay," she warns, then offers her hand to shake. "You've got a deal."

"Alright," he smirks shaking her hand. Without her knowing, he places a tracking spell on her. "Why do you have such elaborate outfits?"

"Oh? You like it?" she teases, spinning to show it off. "It helps people forget who I am. The unnatural things remain in your memory, over who I am. Plus, I invented the mask."

"Oh?" he prods.

"It's magical," she replies. "You'll never be able to place my face with whoever you suspect. Kvasir has tried, but has never gotten the right person."

"You should know better than to tell a magician such as me," he coolly warns.

"C'mon, you have four more questions," she presses.

"You won't give yourself away then?" he tests.

"I always do. The reason why you don't know yet is the mask does its job. You know me, Loki," she shrugs. He looks at her suspiciously, not believing that she speaks the truth. "Three."

"Why do you do this?" he asks.

"Would you believe me if I said this was an escape?" she asks.

"From what?" he asks.

"A horrible home," she replies honestly. "One."

"That can't be a reason," he argues. "You've got to have some sort of plan! What is it?"

"I'm trying to ruin someone," the resolution of her words surprises him. "I answered your questions, now hand over the book."

"You did, but you failed to specific when," he pulls his trick.

"I've warned you not to anger me," she hisses. His guard flies up, only for her to vanish. Did she really just leave without her target?

He gets his answer as his feet get kicked out from under him. He rights himself by grabbing her. She twists out of his grip, but by now he's standing again. He teleports the book into a locked box. He throws a punch and isn't surprised when she dodges, kicking him in the side in the process. He tries to pin her leg, only for her to phase through him.

She jumps back and he summons his staff. He lunges at her, and she easily evades it. A fury of movements later has her pinned under him, on the bed. He managed to bruise her upper arm, and she managed to inflict similar damage to him.

"Oh, your grace, isn't it too soon for this? Shouldn't you at least _try_ to court me?" she mocks, laughing, not perturbed but the staff between her and the emerald silk.

"Sorry, can't add anymore to my list," Loki banters, readjusting his grip on her bruising arm.

"Ah, yes, how are Sif, Vor, Nanna and Kyra doing?" the Mad Hatter asks and receives a confused look in response. "Oh, right. Those are your brother's. How are Sygin, Amora, Angrbooda, and Elaina doing?"

"If you've done anything to them, or even think about it…" Loki hisses.

"You don't have a clue, now do you? The jobs been done far too well," she says almost regretfully. Confused, Loki opts to ignore her.

"You're under arrest, Mad Hatter. Let's see who you really are," Loki's fingers trace the edge of her mask. He suddenly recoils, her body suddenly becoming too warm to touch. He sits back, so he isn't touching her in the straddling position, but still has her pinned. "How are you doing that?!"

"Isn't it obvious?" she teases. "I can control the movement and density of my molecules, meaning I can phase, become as light or dense, cold or hot as possible. Oh, I suppose that's one too many questions. You owe me."

With that, she suddenly pulls her knees to her chest and kicks him in the chest, sending him flying across the room. She lunges for the locked box and grabs it, phasing through the floor.

Unfortunately she lands in a mess of guards and has to fight her way through a few before phasing through the walls. Loki meets her outside, at a not very well used servant's gate.

"You didn't think it would be that easy, did you?" Loki taunts.

"I made a vow not to hurt the royal family," she growls.

"You couldn't even if you tried," Loki dares.

"You owe me," she threatens.

"We play by my rules, not yours," Loki states as if bored.

"I could phase right through you," she states.

"Why don't you?" Loki asks.

"You put a tracker on me," she states.

"So you noticed?" Loki teases.

"Take it off," she demands.

"Take off your mask," Loki counters.

"Fine," she raises her free hand to her mask. "But first, you take the spell off."

"How do I know I can trust you?" Loki demands.

"I'll leave a belated note where this box was. It will have a spell to counter my phasing," she offers.

"How do I know I can trust you?" Loki repeats, though not as harshly. She can tell he likes the deal. That he _wants_ to trust her on this one thing.

"I play by your rules," the Mad Hatter offers.

"You could be lying," Loki knows she is not.

"Because Bravossi hasn't killed you yet," the Mad Hatter states, shocking Loki. "I know about your beatings. He's my man, not yours. You won't be able to break him. Anything he gives you is of his own accord.

"Oh, and it's not that he would ever have the intention to harm you—he took the same vow I did—but he has stopped two assassins, one for you, and one for Lady Kyra," the Mad Hatter offers, shocking Loki. After he stands there for a moment, dumbfounded, she demands "take off the spell."

He waves his hand and the spell is removed. "Well? Let's see who you really are."

"You never said _when_," the Mad Hatter turns his words against him. In his anger, he gets sloppy as he shoots spells at her to stop her, but once she phases through the wall, he loses her.

Returning to his rooms, Loki marches over to Bravossi, who is opening the windows so the sun can warm up the room.

"How may I be of service, your grace?" Bravossi asks. Not with fear, and not with mocking. Almost in the way one would when addressing a friend.

"How many assassins have you stopped?" Loki demands darkly. The minuet widening of brown eyes tells Loki that Bravossi was not expecting that.

"Two," Bravossi states. Loki looks at him incredulously. He teleported here, there is no way for the Mad Hatter to have told Bravossi.

"Tell me about them," Loki demands. A cloud passes over the sun.

"Two days after entering your service, Mance the Vengeful was hired by someone who decided they didn't like one of Lord Tully's business transactions—specifically his daughter, Kyra, being selected by your brother. Mance was disguised as one of the servants meant to help her set up a wing in this palace. He intended to rape, then kill her. I prevented this," Bravossi explains.

"How? How did you know?" Loki demands, shocked at the revelation.

"The old crone, Tysh, who works in the kitchens, is a friend. She also has a constantly active Soul Spell. She can sense the intentions of those around her. She is talented and old enough that her field of understanding covers the entire palace, from the dungeons—old and new—to the observatory and the highest towers. She knew and told me," Bravossi answers.

"Is she one of the Mad Hatter's?" Loki asks, his mood souring just like how the weather outside.

"What do you think?" Bravossi defiantly looks at him. When he receives no answer, he continues. "Information costs, your grace. Ask her."

"What about the other assassin?" Loki asks.

"What about her?" Bravossi asks.

"Tell me about her," Loki demands.

"Pay me," Bravossi states. Loki thinks about it for a moment.

"No, I am your prince. It is your duty and your honor to serve me," Loki demands.

"Guard," Bravossi corrects. "I am here as a guard, not as anyone else."

"Guard?" Loki replies exasperated. "I should have you thrown back in prison for that!"

"And let the assassins kill you, your friends, and family?" Bravossi demands.

"Why do you care? You're just a pathetic thief!" Loki slaps Bravossi. Bravossi grabs his arm and locks gazes.

"The vows I made as part of the Order of Mitilith are my longest kept vows. But that won't stop me from breaking them if you do not cooperate. I can only do so much. I am not a miracle worker," Bravossi threatens.

"Guard!" Loki snaps his fingers and the doors fly open. He flings Bravossi at the guard's feet. "Take my thrall down to the prisons. If I see him again it will be with my favorite whip."

* * *

"Goddamnit!" Amora shouts as the man who she was making out with runs away. She turns to Loki, who is angrily standing against the door. "Loki, you have to stop this! I am not your booty call."

"I'm sorry," Loki glares at the wall.

"Say it like you mean it," Amora scolds, straightening her dress. Loki's glare turns to her, before he takes a deep breath and releases it.

"I shouldn't have interrupted you. I just locked my thrall because we got into a fight," Loki shakes his head. "I'm sorry."

* * *

sex

* * *

"Good, you can make it up to me by finishing the job and then telling me exactly what your problem is," Amora sighs as she gets up and walks to her closet. "Do you want leather or chains?"

"Chains," Loki admits. Amora raises an eyebrow at him.

"That bad of a fight?" Amora asks surprised. "He's your thrall. How did he get you so worked up?"

"I'd rather not say," Loki admits.

"Well then, do you want the gag silver tongue?" Amora asks.

"Not yet," Loki says.

"Get comfortable," Amora says, examining some handcuffs and chains. Loki walks into the next room, a place designed for sex. A comfortable couch sits against one wall. A large bed against another. Various drawers in the walls hold various toys. He chooses a table and sits on it.

"Clothes," Amora calls, and he vanishes them. She walks in and puts gently cuffs his hands. He raises them and she connects the chain to the one from the ceiling. "Good?"

"Yes," Loki nods.

"Well then, let's go," Amora smirks. With that, she dives into his mouth, yanking a groan out of him. He gives back just as much pressure and pleasure as her. He tugs on the chains, hard enough to bruise. She pulls back.

"Loki, this isn't going to work if you don't hold back a little bit," Amora gently scolds.

"The whole point of _this_ is so I can let go without hurting you," Loki sighs, waving his hands at the chains. "I need those feelings."

"At the risk of bruising? No. How about this? If you hold back long enough, I'll let you watch me, then tear off my dress while ravishing me," Amora offers.

"How long is long enough?" Loki groans, his excitement evident.

"Let me see," Amora swaggers over to the wall as her sheer dress swaying around her. She opens a drawer and digs through it. She pulls out an hour glass filled with purple sand and puts turns it over.

"Ten minutes?" Loki asks, letting despair etch his voice. "Amora, I don't think I can."

"You've got to give the spells in the chains time to take effect," Amora drags her hand along the table, before gently patting his leg. "No stalling."

"Then hurry up," Loki orders impatiently. Amora chuckles, before diving back into his mouth. He responds, but doesn't pull on the chains as hard, even if he wants to. After she gets bored of playing with his silver tongue, she kisses up his jaw, then back down. After pecking his lips again, she kisses up the other side of his jaw and back again.

Loki groans, looking at the hour glass and realizing only a couple minutes has passed. Amora chuckles into his ear before nibbling it. "Hurry up."

"I can't control time, Loki," Amora purrs. He gasps slightly as something cold brushes against his arm. In Amora's hand is a smooth metal disk, and she is gradually brushing it along his muscles. She knows the spots that will send chills up his spine.

He lets out a whispy shudder, finally relaxing. Amora smirks against his neck, dragging her tongue along the shivers in his neck. He sighs her name, spurring her on. She takes her time dancing along his neck, hands dancing along his body.

When the disk caresses his side, he moans as his body instinctively tries to curl in to itself. The cuffs are still tight, but since it has been a few minutes, they are no longer bruising.

"Ah, ah, ah," Amora tsks, eyes flitting up to the chains.

"Amora," Loki groans, biting his lip. At times, their friendship is the only thing stopping him from taking her without care; especially when he is so riled up from anger. This is one of those times.

"Five minutes, you've done such a good job," Amora praises. "Now can you last another five?"

"Maybe," Loki mumbles.

"Louder," Amora corrects.

"Yes," Loki states.

"Good boy," Amora teases and glides the cold metal from his hip to his spine. He arches against it, allowing the magic in the disk to spread through him. Amora goes back to his neck, and kisses around _the_ spot on his neck.

She teases _the_ spot until he starts whimpering, instinctively trying to push closer to her. She gives him some relief as she sucks hard on that spot, marking it for the world to see. His moan excites her and she crawls onto the table, straddling him.

"Excited?" Loki teases.

"You tell me," Amora says and plunges back into his mouth. They press against each other, hardly able to contain their passion. Their dance continues until a crash yanks them out of it.

"Amora!" Loki whines, looking at the broken hour glass on the ground. She accidently kicked it off.

"Clean it up," Amora says.

"But I don't know where it was. I'm not going to wait another ten minutes," Loki glares at her.

"Eh, it's been long enough. We can move on to that reward I mentioned," Amora shrugs. With a wave of Loki's hand, the shattered glass and sand vanish into the drawer—reparied.

Reluctantly, Amora slides off the table and lounges on the couch. She pulls a couple toys and lube from a drawer and hikes up her skirts. Loki groans his excitement, seeing her glistening promise.

Her moan brings an already hard cock even harder, as she slides a finger between her lower lips. He gulps as he watches a finger disappear, and then another and another. They slide in and out, teasing him more than her words.

As she brings them to her lips to suck off, she slides a toy in to replace them. He watches the green dildo stretch her and he nearly loses it there. He yanks against the chains, groaning her name.

"Patients," Amora says.

"Hurry up or I'll just go finish myself," Loki glares, earning a chuckle.

Amora throws her head back and moans, just to tease him more. The clanking of the chains is her reward. She pulls out the toy and he can't stop the pleasure as it disappears into her mouth.

Once she has cleaned it off, she puts it away. "Ok, I'm ready. Take me hard, Loki."

With that, the chains holding him in place vanish and he pounces onto her, the tearing of her dress spurring them on. Heated limbs rush against each other to get her naked. He plows deep into her without a second thought.

"Please tell me you did a good job prepping," Loki says through gritted teeth.

"Fuck me harder," Amora replies. What can Loki do but obey?

He plows into her again and again, speeding up when she demands it. Her gasping moans are littered with 'more', 'harder', and 'faster'. He obliges at every one, until she clenches around him, screaming his name,

All he sees is white as her body sucks an orgasm from him.

Loki chuckles as he looks down at her, attempting to clean them up.

"Shut up, you're exhausting," Amora keeps her eyes closed. She pats his head, fingers lacing through his hair.

"Not as exhausting as you," Loki teases.

* * *

sex end

* * *

"You're the one that needed to blow off some energy," Amora pouts. "Are you going to tell me about it, or do you just not want to talk about it?"

"I just discovered my thrall has a criminal record," Loki sighs.

"You do remember you picked him up when you went to stop a raid on an alter to the Temple of the Norns, right?" Amora reminds him.

"Well, yes…" Loki says.

"But?" Amora prods.

"He used to be an assassin," Loki states.

"You've worked with worse," Amora says.

"Yes but… he apparently stopped Mance the Vengeful," Loki says.

"Remind me who that is?" Amora asks, trying and failing to remember. She knows she has heard the name, but can't remember what he's done.

"Always rapes then kills his victims," Loki explains. "There have been 27 over the last half century."

"Hey, your thrall killed a bad guy, one less worry for the rest of us," Amora shrugs. "Why did that get so you worked up?"

"Mance was going after Lady Kyra," this sparks Amora's interest. "Bravossi happened to be near enough to stop it. So he did."

"That's a good thing," Amora states. "Or are you just disappointed you didn't _order _your _thrall_ to do it and he acted on his own?"

"Because he is working with the Mad Hatter," Loki admits.

"That thief you and Lord Kvasir are hunting?" Amora asks. Loki nods. "You're afraid he's spying on you?"

"I know he is," Loki sighs.

"More like bribing you to get off her back," Amora chuckles. Loki examines her, trying to figure that out. He knows it was meant as a joke. But something about her words he can't shake.

"I was trying to get more information about her, and he refused to give it," Loki states.

"Ah, so that's why you threw him back in jail," Amora chuckles. "He should know by now just to give you what you want."

"If only it was that easy," Loki sighs.

"Maybe if you knew more about this Mad Hatter," Amora suggests. "I could help do some research?"

"Anything you find, I'll pay you like this," Loki says seductively.

"I suppose that will be suffice," Amora teases and Loki kisses her again.


	11. 11 - Loki

As always, thanks for reading!

Warnings:

* * *

Loki silently walks along the dark corridor. Or, it would be silent, if the guard leading him wasn't dressed in armor that clinks with every step. They're walking along the old prisons, at the very bottom of the palace. He didn't trust Bravossi after his revelation two days ago and threw him in here.

They arrive at the cell and the guard waits for orders.

"Open it and wait here," Loki orders. The guard obeys. Loki goes in, closing the door behind him. He casts an illusion, so if anyone watched they would see what they expect: Loki whipping a troublesome servant.

Instead, Loki looks across the cell and finds Bravossi chained standing flat the wall. The thing that strikes Loki as odd is that Bravossi is sleeping in this uncomfortable position.

"Bravossi," Loki slaps him awake. Tired brown eyes blink open to meet furious green. The auburn haired man waits, but that only serves to piss off Loki. "Well? Don't you have anything to say for yourself?"

"I wouldn't be alive if you had reported me, so I'm going out on a limb and guessing that you, at the very least, _want_ to believe me," Bravossi punctuates with a yawn. Loki slams his hand against Bravossi's throat, not quite chocking.

"I should have you killed. Give me one reason not to," Loki demands.

"It will do no good," Bravossi says. When Loki doesn't react, he continues. "I'm a sworn brother of the Order of Mitilith."

"Impossible," Loki's grip tightens. "They were disbanded by my father's father, King Bor."

"Disbanded, but not killed," Bravossi corrects. "Their children lived on and carried their ideals. That is the vow I took, my prince. I will not harm the royal family."

"Your vow isn't good enough to stop me from killing you," Loki threatens.

"No, but the Order of Mitilith do not stay dead," Bravossi states.

"Explain yourself," Loki growls.

"Why?" Bravossi dares. The last of Loki's patients is why he doesn't get slapped.

"I have given you a command. Explain why the Order of Mitilith does not stay dead," Loki orders.

Bravossi hesitates. "What's in it for me?"

"Out of this cell," Loki states. Bravossi scoffs.

"Not good enough, my prince. Out of this cell to where? The headsman's block? To freedom? Back to your service?" Bravossi asks.

"…" Loki thinks about it. He wants answers, and has seen in the past that whipping and threatening Bravossi like a normal servant won't work. In fact, it does the opposite. Finally an idea hits him. "What do you want out of this?"

"Trust," Bravossi instantly says, surprising Loki. "Your grace, a rebellion is coming that will destroy the peace like none other. A twentieth of Asgard's population will die, five times more will suffer—physically, mentally, removed from homes. The Old Nightmares will be unleashed. If you want to learn about them, search your library.

"The thing is, you don't have to believe me. I'm not asking for that. But this is the truth. What I'm asking for is that you _trust_ me to protect you and your family. I'll do everything in my power to do this, I've sworn by the Norns and other gods," Bravossi explains.

"I can't just give you my trust," Loki argues, trying to process those ridiculous words.

"Smart," Bravossi compliments. "But you know I'm not lying."

"I know what you say is what you fervently believe to be the truth," Loki agrees. "But just because you believe something, does not make it true."

"And so we arrive at a standstill. You won't believe me. I can't do my job, honor my vows from in here. What can I do to change this?" Bravossi asks.

"You refuse to give me the answers I seek," Loki accuses.

"I asked why—I never refused," Bravossi smirks. "I'm tired of doing something for nothing. I'm not made for that. I've given you as much leeway as I can. Do you think I enjoy being a thrall? Don't answer that. I'm a selfish brat who isn't doing this out of the kindness of my heart. I didn't take the vows for that."

"Why did you?" Loki asks. He gets no response. "What do you get out of protecting me and my family?"

"My sisters back," Bravossi admits weakly.

"Your sisters are hostages?" Loki asks, surprised.

"Only to their own ideals," Bravossi sighs.

"Who are they?" Loki asks gently, happy to be getting somewhere.

"Two, one is blood one isn't. The Mad Hatter isn't blood. The other… has been head over heels in love with the Mad Hatter since we were kids and has served longer than I. They're so occupied by protecting you and your family from the rebellion that they no longer… I mean, we used to be thieves and mercenaries. Oh the stories I could tell about those happy days…" Bravossi smiles, eyes glazed remembering the good old days. He shakes his head and meets Loki's gaze again. "I'm in this fight to get my happy sisters back. Can't you at least understand the concept?"

"Of course," Loki replies kindly. In truth he does understand the feeling, he occasionally misses being kids with Thor. He also thinks it's a stupid thought.

"What can I do to earn your trust?" Bravossi asks.

"Answer my questions," Loki states, thankful to get over Bravossi's stumbling block.

"The order doesn't stay dead because of Soul Binds. I couldn't explain them to you if I tried, because I don't understand them. You'd have to look them up," Bravossi shrugs, then winces. "Do you have any other burning questions? Because I'm not one to spill my guts. I'll give you five more for free. Anything else and you have to give something. Trust is a two way street, understand that or it will be your ruin."

"I suppose I'll never get her name," Loki sighs, playing Bravossi into an answer. From Bravossi's expression, he knows and finds it funny.

"Not my sisters, but I can make you a list of people who would be willing to talk to you, in the palace, who work for the Mad Hatter," Bravossi offers. "Of course, you'll have to pay them something or other."

"You don't know who is in charge of the rebellion," Loki states.

"You already know the answer to that," Bravossi sighs. "C'mon, ask a question already. Five is really generous."

"I need to know all of your capabilities, if you're to remain my guardian," Loki says. Bravossi looks at him hopefully, because that's Loki agreeing to let him guard him. "Count that as the first one."

"Ok. I'm the mercenary called Storm Slayer," Bravossi admits, surprising Loki. When he was captured, Bravossi went by different name. Storm Slayer has been on the capture-and-kill list for centuries. "I use my Soul Spell for water to create storms. With that, I can tell the basic health of a person. Some people in my position can heal, but I was never trained. I was never trained in natural magic—what you call common magic. I was trained in archery and swordplay, but I prefer my daggers for close range combat. Or no weapons at all. I can speak the languages of the realms. But I'm no open book. I'll write you a list of other things, such as my other aliases. Next question?"

"What is your purpose here, besides to guard me and my family?" Loki asks.

"I'm your exit plan if we can't stop the rebellion from destroying this place," Bravossi shocks Loki. Loki schools his features, giving himself time, before asking his next question:

"What is the Mad Hatter's organization?"

"Be more specific or else you won't like the answer," Bravossi teases.

"What is your position in her organization?" Loki rephrases.

"One of the second commands," Bravossi states. Loki raises a confused eyebrow. "She's the top, and then there are three of us as second commanders. Then there is a rank of seven, then fifteen. I help make all the plans, train people in basic Soul Spells and archery. Two more."

"Where is her organization located?" Loki asks.

"In the old sanctuaries of the Order. You know, places like the Black Isles, the First Mountain, the Snake River," Bravossi states. "She has a strange non-pattern of where she goes, how long she stays, and the duration. I can add them to my list, but I can't tell you where she will be tomorrow. I genuinely don't know. Last one?"

"Will you come back into my service, as my thrall?" Loki asks, assuring Bravossi that he understands that answer.

"Of course, I enjoy it," Bravossi smiles.

"I thought you implied…?" Loki thought he didn't like it.

"I said don't ask because I didn't want to give you any leverage before I made my point," Bravossi says. It hits Loki like a ton of bricks that he was played, this entire time. While Bravossi never lied, he was manipulating Loki with the truth, the same way Loki is a master of. Loki isn't sure if he should have a newfound respect, or worried that Bravossi can do that.

"What about these chains?" Bravossi asks.

Loki snaps and he is released. "There was an illusion that you were being beat, so act like it," Loki motions for Bravossi to follow. They end up back in Loki's rooms.

"Looks like you missed a summon," is the first thing Bravossi says as he picks up a note from Loki's desk. "Lady Amora and Lady Elaina are potion making again."

"Trust is a two way street. Do you have any questions for me?" Loki asks.

"No, more of a request," Bravossi states. "If you find out anything about the rebellion, please let me know. And don't turn any of us in."

"I think I can follow that," Loki agrees. "Will those lists be done by the time I return?"

"It will be ready when it is ready, your grace," Bravossi informs.

"Good," Loki states and walks out. By the time he arrives at Amora's wing, he finds flour, petals and something gooey all over the potion-making room, Lydia the cat has a purple snake for a tail, and the girls are tangled together on the floor laughing.

"Am I interrupting something?" Loki smiles amused.

"Loki!" Amora shouts. As she quickly sits up, her dress strap falls and her and Elaina start laughing again.

"You've made quite a mess without me," Loki looks over the room again. "Why does Lydia have a snake-tail?"

"Quantum-bio-shift! The College of Magic Council has only ever been able to do it to dead animals, and we did it to a living one. Watch! Lydia, come here!" Amora dives for the cat and forces something in her mouth. The tail merges back into a cat tail. Lydia coughs and pats the ground. She sits and meows, making the girls laugh again.

"She apparently likes having a snake tail y—Loki," Elaina explains. Lydia paws at Amora. Since the blonde won't give her anything, Lydia paws at Elaina, who gives her the pill. Lydia's tail turns back into a purple snake that hisses.

"You achieved a reversible quantum-bio-spectrum-shift in a living creature?" Loki asks in shock. "How?"

"Elaina's luck," Amora laughs as the snake tail nuzzles against her. "She dropped the cookbook we were using three times, and opened it to different pages each time. The first time we didn't realize it. But when I took a look, I noticed and we decided to do it again just for the Hell of it."

"You could have killed Lydia," Loki states dimly as Lydia swaggers over to him and nuzzles his legs, demanding to be petted.

"You know she can't die and can't get sick, so nothing hurts her," Amora dismisses it. Loki picks up Lydia and examines the tail closely.

"Have either of you tried your new pill?" Loki asks.

"Watch!" Amora exclaims, swallowing something.

"Wait!" Elaina warns too late.

Amora's long blonde hair darkens to black, shortening to her ears. Her facial features become flatter, instead of their beautiful pronounced. Her shoulders get a little broader and her dress seems to not fit anymore. Taking in her form Loki realizes something very important—Amora is now a man.

"What?" Amora's deeper voice panics, looking to Elaina with alarm.

"That… was the last one," Elaina states, trying not to laugh. "I'll… make another."

"I'm going to explore while you make more!" Amora excitedly says and runs off to the bathroom.

"By the norns," Elaina says exasperated. She gets up, her lavender dress a mess. "Ok, so I need _Ears of Frost_…" Loki helps Elaina collect the ingredients.

"Have you taken one?" Loki asks.

"No, I'm worried about getting stuck," Elaina admits. "Do you want to try one?"

"I already have a female form," Loki's voice lightens as he shimmers into his female form. Raven hair cascades down her back as her features become more pronounced. She smirks at Elaina's shocked and curious expression. "Like what you see?"

"More than I realized," Elaina says, before snapping a hand over her mouth. "I shouldn't have said that."

"No shame in it," Loki leans against the table right next to her. Loki gently brushes a hand against Elaina's neck the shorter woman looks up.

"You're just really pretty," Elaina mumbles.

"Want to know something more beautiful?" Loki teases. Elaina's eyes go wide. Loki leans in and whispers into her ear: "You."

Elaina gasps in shock as Loki's tongue teases her ear.

"H-how long is Amora going to be?" Elaina clears her throat loudly, ruining the moment.

"I'll go check," Loki wanders into the bathroom.

* * *

gender-bent sex

* * *

Her gaze meets Amora's and seductive smiles plays across their faces.

"You're thinking what I'm thinking?" Amora asks.

"This would be the first time we're truly able to switch roles like this. You being the man and me the woman," Loki flirts, swaying as she walks over to him.

"Oh, that feels odd," Amora wiggles, a small tent forming over his crotch.

"That's one way to describe it," Loki stands right in front of him. Lightly, she places her arms around Amora's neck and leans in. Amora quickly closes the distance, eagerly moving against the other form. A moan forms in his throat, the feeling of soft breasts against his flat chest is new and exciting.

Enthusiastically, Amora pulls Loki flat against himself, rolling his hips. The sensation makes them both gasp. Loki rolls gently, almost teasingly, pulling a growl out of Amora. His grips on her hips tighten, as Loki's grip in his hair does.

"Good gods," Amora groans. "It's strange, but feels really, really good."

"How far would you like to explore?" Loki asks.

"I will make you scream," Amora growls passionately. Loki whimpers, spurring on Amora. He slams her rather forcefully against a wall, fingers dancing along her hips. Amora finds that spot on Loki's neck that makes her whimper, kissing it passionately.

Amora's hands flit up and down Loki's sides, gently massaging all the right spots. In response, Loki roughly pulls his hair, letting new sounds fall off her lips. This only serves to spur on Amora's hands, as he slides one along her inner thigh.

Loki's breathe hitches as that hand gets so close to the spot she didn't know she needed to be touched. Whining, Loki wraps her leg around his slender waist, silently begging. Well, not that silently, for all her panting and moaning.

Amora growls and stops moving as that heat presses against his new cock. "Fuck, is it always this intense?"

"No, it's simply because the sensations are new. The body is new. Your mind isn't entirely sure how to process it, so everything feels stronger than it iiiiis!" Loki nearly shrieks as fingers touch her clit through her pants.

"You talk too much," Amora growls and roughly rubs again, causing Loki to groan. "Clothes."

Loki whimpers when those talented fingers are removed. Angrily, Loki glares at him. One magic word later, they're both naked, locked in Amora's room, in a tumble on her bed. Loki is on top of him, her soft body sending shivers through Amora.

"Vixen," Amora scoffs, rolling them over.

"No," Loki climbs back on top. "Trust me." Loki gently kneads her boobs. "You'll enjoy it more this way."

"Good gods Loki," Amora whines. "Stop teasing."

"You're rather enjoying this aren't you?" Loki grinds against Amora's fully erect cock.

"Yes!" Amora whimpers.

"Perhaps you'll enjoy this," Loki moves back, and Amora nearly screams his frustration. He passionately screams when Loki puts her mouth on his cock. Chasing that passion, his hips thrust a few times into Loki's mouth without much regard for her comfort. He barely remembers and slows down.

Loki's green eyes meet their mirror, holding Amora's gaze.

"Let go."

Growling, Amora obeys, mouth fucking Loki. Cuming in a wave of passion a few moments later, it takes a moment for him to realize Loki is licking his cum.

"Oh gods, no wonder you men are all…." Amora whines, covering his face.

"How good was that?" Loki asks nonchalantly.

"I'd believe that thing you said about intensity…" Amora eyes Loki. Suddenly, he pounces on her and forces her down. Loki raises a perfectly arched eyebrow. "Tell me how good I am."

Loki certainly was not expecting Amora to lick her clit. A moan escapes her lips. Though she has taken this form many times, she has rarely used it for sex. Things are still intense for her. Another lick and Loki holds out her moan. Another lick and a gasp cuts off her moan. Loki shudders, letting her voice sing as Amora keeps going.

After some pleasure has built, Amora softly kneads a finger inside her and wiggles it. Loki gasps, arching. "Fucking g-spot."

More obscenities roll off her tongue as Amora keeps going. His free hand slowly snakes up to play with a nipple. The sensations in three places build fast. Loki writhes, tightly holding Amora's hair.

She falls over her edge from a particularly rough bite by Amora. Stars are the only thing she sees for a few moments as Amora takes the chance to open her up a bit more. He drags his cock against her pussy and Loki smirks up at him.

"Under me," Loki says.

"You still have to dom?" Amora teases, but obliges. Loki positions herself above Amora, and playfully rotates her hips. "I always wondered why you liked this."

Loki takes his hands and has them cup her breasts. He continues needing them as Loki plunges, taking Amora's cock in one swoop. They both gasp loudly from the surprise, and intense pleasure. Waves of pleasure continue to roll through Loki, as she waits for her body to adjust.

"Gods, woman, I…" Amora hisses. "How the fuck…."

"Grabs my hips and just fuck me," Loki groans and is instantly obeyed. Amora takes her hard, eventually rolling them back down on the bed. To Loki every touch, every moment just rolls more pleasure over her, building between her legs.

Amora's hands slide to Loki's breasts and hair, working hard as they collide in a rough kiss. Their voices mix with the intensity until even the sound of flesh hitting is muffled.

"Fuck," Amora groans spilling inside her. He bites her shoulder as he screams. The pleasure Loki receives becomes unbearably amazing as she tumbles over her edge again. She screams and her body pulls the last bit out of Amora. "We've got to do that again."

"We do this too often it will no longer be so intense," Loki barely manages to get out, her throat in pain from that last shout. "We'll get acclimated to it and…" Amora kisses her.

* * *

end

* * *

"You talk too much," Amora complains. "You used a silencing spell, right?"

"Uh…" Loki tries to remember casting it.

"Bitch!" Amora shouts. He jump up, pulling on some random pants.

"What?" Loki whines. "Come back to bed."

"I don't want to scare off Elaina!" Amora glares at her.

"You're cute when you do that," Loki tries flirting to get him back in bed. It doesn't work, and Amora finds his way back to the potion room. He is surprised to find it completely clean, with everything back in its place. Everything except for a bottle of pills and a note. Amora reads it.

"I figured you wanted some privacy, so I cleaned up and left you these. The blue ones change a person, the red ones reverse it. I tested it on Lydia. – Elaina"

Loki arrives, dressed and a man again, just after Amora pops a red pill.

"What, you don't want to try guy on guy sex?" Loki teases.

"We scared her off," Amora whines.

"She's just a lower noble," Loki points out, reading over her shoulder.

"She has the most amazing luck!" Amora defends. "And she's an awesome person. And we're her only relief from… well, that's not important. But I shouldn't scare her off! Gods, why do I trust you with these things… Loki?"

Loki is staring at the note, trying to remember where he has seen it before. He looks oddly at Amora. "Relief from what?"

"I… Angrbooda has a suspicion," Amora folds up the note and pockets it.

"What is it?" Loki asks.

"A horrible home," Amora sighs.

"Lesser lords are unfortunately like that. It's fairly common," Loki points out. "What, afraid to ruin her father?"

"That's the problem," Amora sighs. "Angrbooda pointed out her bruise on her arm. All I can do is offer a peace from that. Because to expose her father beating her would ruin her name as well."

"You're right, there isn't," Loki agrees. But he doesn't believe it, mainly because something is tugging at the back of his mind. He doesn't understand what though.


	12. 12 - The Family's: Sygin Kanin

Alternate title: Angrbooda's plan

Warnings: none

Thanks angel897 for reviewing. Made my day seeing that when I went to post this.

As always, thanks all for reading and favorite/following and all that.

* * *

The door slams.

"Angrbooda," Amora warns, glaring at the potion she is working on.

"It's injustice!" Angrbooda angrily grumbles.

"What happened this time?" Amora looks over at the giantess. "Is that the response from Elaina?"

"Her father sends his sympathies, but Elaina will not be joining us," Angrbooda mocks as Amora marches over and swipes the letter out of her hands. She reads it and rolls her eyes. "She is too busy training direwolves to visit a friend."

"There might not be anything we can do," Amora admits.

"I'm going over and demanding he let her go!" Angrbooda argues.

"You have no authority to do so," Amora sighs. "Lots of lesser lords are like what you're assuming. And it might not even be like that!"

"This is what I was talking about," Angrbooda grumbles, ignoring the smaller woman.

"What? The fact that he wrote the letter, not her? Lots of people's parents also do that and it means nothing. Her father's father originally bred direwolves for King Bor, and that's why the Tyalroy family are nobles. It is really important to her family that they're trained well. It's all they've got," Amora tries to reason.

"But that bruise on her arm—" Angrbooda defends.

"Could be anything," Amora reasons. "It could be from training her direwolves, it could be from her dancing practice. Hell, she could be clumsy and really good at hiding it."

"You know how many women I've rescued from these things. I don't care what the policy is here, in the mountains you only beat your enemy," Angrbooda glares.

"Welcome to the palace. You can't just go change policy," Amora sighs, giving up.

"I can and I have. I've been training those pansies into shape. Honestly, the guard here is lazy and stupid. Back home, they'd all be dead by now," Angrbooda scoffs.

"We don't get daily raids here," Amora reminds her.

"Maybe we should," Angrbooda glares.

"Be careful what you wish for," Amora sighs.

"What? Because I'll get it? Then I wish for the injustice against Elaina to end. She has so much potential. Those potions you two make—that's fascinating! Seriously, you two randomly make something, and then when alone she's able to make one-way transformations?" Angrbooda finishes excited.

"Well, she was working on it with me so it's not that big of a surprise," Amora says slowly. She was suspicious of how Elaina did that, when it should have taken longer—regardless of her skills. The look Angrbooda gives Amora tells her she isn't believed.

"You're not the least suspicious of her?" Angrbooda prods.

"Of what? Her luck?" Amora scoffs.

"Yeah, isn't that the excuse she always uses. How she has mastered making non-mainstream things? And she always has a story for it?" Angrooba prods.

"Mastered? She can do three things no one else has thought of because they're fairly useless. She's not a master. Besides, why would that be suspicious? Better question: why would she be hiding anything?" Amora demands incredulously.

"I don't know…" Angrbooda sighs. "She doesn't want to ruin her family name?"

"That's what I told Loki," Amora explains. "You know it would ruin her. She'd be considered her father's _bad blood_. Or that she is a bad child and deserves it. That's why people don't expose the immoral lesser lords. The children suffer."

"The child is already suffering!" Angrbooda argues.

"We can't do anything about it!" Amora pleads for understanding. "I'm famous for my sex, potions, and magic. You are for your fighting skills. My family is as old as yours, but yours has a higher council. And we're daughters. _We. Can't. Do. Anything._"

"Sure I can," Angrbooda says with that twinkle in her eye.

"Whatever you're planning, leave me out of it," Amora says cautiously.

"Too late," Angrbooda teases.

* * *

Breath-taking does not begin to describe the pureness that steps out of the carriage. The white hair of the big braid, nearly forming a crown, on top of Sigyn's head is interlaced with silver bells. Her dress is open and flowing and a beautiful mix of white and silver.

Loki offers her arm, welcoming her with a warm smile.

"Thank you, your grace," Sigyn blushes slightly. "I hope I'm not overdressed."

"You have tact, your dress rivals your beauty," Loki purrs.

"Welcome, welcome," Odin's voice booms, cutting off all conversations. "We are delighted to host the Kanin family this evening. This is a friendship we hope to maintain and enhance for years to come. Tonight, let's start by feasting together."

"Your grace, you know it is not proper for me to accept this invitation without giving you a gift," Hoenir amiably shares a hug with the king. "Do you remember in the battle of Nuviar, we were fighting back to back and managed to fight off fifty foes together? Most of their weapons where not worth our presence, but there was one thing I found there that I have been saving."

Hoenir motions to a servant, who kneels in front of Odin and offers a silver eye patch.

"When I first picked this up, I meant to melt it down, but the engravings grabbed my curiosity. I only recently discovered that it is known as the Eye of Sauron, a device that helps the beholder discover more loot!" Hoenir laughs.

"If only there was such a use for it in my courtoom," Odin chuckles.

"Perhaps you should join me for a hunt one of these days. Your sons certainly could take your place for a day or two," Hoenir offers.

"I will consider that," Odin promises. "For now, let us feast and you can tell us all about your last hunt."

Odin sits at the head of the table with Frigga on his right, Hoenir on his left. Sigyn sits between the queen and Loki, and across from her mother, Eri. The food is served, and everyone is captivated by the stories Hoenir tells.

"I nearly forgot," Hoenir laughs after they are done feasting. His servants hold out more boxes. "When I was getting that eyepiece appraised, I came across this fine dress and instantly thought of the beauty of your wife."

Frigga accepts the box, lightly touching the fabric. She gasps at the lightness and softness.

"This material…" Frigga mutters. "Thank you."

"Silk of the dragon spider, from the Black Marshes, if it pleases your grace," Hoenir says proudly. "My only apology is it has traded a few hands before arriving here. It was commissioned for their fickle grace, who decided she didn't care for it anymore. The seller was trying to get rid of it, because his wife thought it was too beautiful for her.

"And I say it was made for a Queen. It is soft, and will never chafe. It is strong, and durable to the point it will never tear. Not even if stabbed. That is the strength the dragon spider silk is known for. But the Black Marshes seamstresses are known for a few others things... oh, dear, what were they?" Hoenir asks his wife.

"Heat regulating spells, the cleanliness, and the magic enhancing spells," Sygin pipes up.

"Brilliant, my daughter. I tell you, she is just brilliant," Hoenir tells Odin. Another servant offers a box to Loki. "That is one of the Blades of the Round Table, I picked up from an Olympian," Hoenir points out. "A lovely piece of work, and with magical enhancements too. You should enjoy that my boy. I spent quite a while looking for something that would suit you."

"Thank you," Loki tries not to roll his eyes at Hoenir's familiarity. Sure, the man is one of Odin's oldest friends. But he is too familiar in Loki's opinion. The dagger is well enough, though he already has one. Blades of the Round Table are not as difficult to obtain as Lord Hoenir makes it out to be. His mother's dress is more interesting, if just because of where it came from.

"Dear, we would like to reminisce of the old times," Frigga gently puts a hand on Loki's arm. "Would you like to take Sigyn on a tour of the palace? I'm afraid we would bore her terribly."

"A splendid idea," Loki agrees and offers his arm to Sigyn. "Would you like to see the beauties of the palace? They rival yours."

"I would be honored, your grace," Sigyn takes his arm and follows him out.

"Is there any place you would like to see?" Loki offers.

"I hear the gardens are beautiful this time of year," Sigyn replies. Loki tries not to roll his eyes. Of course she would want to see the gardens, what woman wouldn't?

"I would love to show them to you," Loki leads her away. He quickly notices something is off with her. She blandly looks at the flowers, as if tolerating their presence. After a few minutes, he asks about it. "Are you enjoying yourself?"

"Oh, yes… I was just berating myself for not being clearer," Sigyn bites her lip nervously. Loki wonders if she will follow Nanna, and ask to go to his mother's garden. Thor told him about it.

"Now's your chance," Loki says. _Here it comes_…

"I was hoping to visit your medical gardens. And perhaps pick the mind of a healer," Sigyn admits, surprising him. "I've recently learned about the clear bottom plant and wanted to know more."

"It would be an honor to take you to them," Loki offers. If he has to be on this frivolous errand, he might as well benefit. He is vaguely aware of the plant, and doesn't know or care about what it does.

They discover that the plant is used to spice foods in small quantities. In large quantities, it is used to heal one of the few sicknesses that the Vanier can catch.

* * *

"Hi," Angrbooda says, leaning against the door frame. Lord Magyr stands on the other side, half surprised to see the giantess there.

"Welcome. How may I help you?" Lord Magyr offers.

"We wanted to get to know Elaina on a personal basis and so we decided to take her out," Angrbooda shrugs. "Is she available?"

"That is a grand gesture," Lord Magyr politely says. "However, we have a rule in this house that all appointments must be made beforehand."

"Really? Isn't that a little uptight?" Amora asks, arms folded across her chest.

"Perhaps for you, but Elaina's mother and I have decided this is for her best interest," Lord Magyr says politely, but it is still meant to bite her. Not just a stab at her loose morals, but at her lacking parents as well.

"Lord Magyr," Angrbooda leans into his light, sounding more threatening as she speaks. "Your daughter is _not_ a child anymore. You cannot always be there to protect her. She is a grown woman, and is being considered for courting by a prince. You must let go of the control over her, and trust that you have taught her well. She can survive fine without you."

"I will not be scolded by the likes of you! Out!" Lord Magyr hisses, shoving the door closed on them.

"So much for you demanding he hand her over. Now what?" Amora asks.

"If you hate rescuing people so badly, then you should have stayed in the palace," Angrbooda grumbles as she looks around as they walk down the path to the carriage.

"I don't. I'm just not used to _him_. You're right, Lord Magyr is hiding something. I'm wearing my 'promise' dress," Amora says.

"Ha. He's the first one to reject it, isn't he?" Angrbooda teases.

"That's the thing, the dress has spells in it to comfort the people who look upon it. It doesn't work when the beholder is so worked over hiding something that the magic fails. It failed on him. I'll agree with you on that one point. He's hiding something… Angrbooda? What are you doing?" Amora asks when Angrbooda steps off the path and heads to the shacks.

"I got lost on the way back to the carriage in the dark," Angrbooda says and Amora laughs, following along.

"Sure, they always believe that one," Amora says sarcastically. "It's not like we're going to find evidence lying around out here… what's that?" She spots a boy laying in the hay between two direwolves.

"Dunno," Angrbooda kneels next to him. Slowly, he opens his eyes.

"Avery…? No, you're too tall," the kid mutters as he wakes up. Suddenly he jumps up in a bow. "I apologize my ladies! I fell asleep on the job! I am ashamed of myself!"

"You're just a kid," Amora states.

"It is my duty to train the direwolves, Lady Amora. I'll be a man in a half century," he bows.

"That's still a long way away. What's your name kid?" Amora asks.

"Fenrir, if it pleases my lady," Fenrir bows again.

"How do you know my name?" Amora asks.

"Lady Elaina told me about her new wonderful friends. I saw you when you dropped her off. I thank you for taking care of her," Fenrir bows yet again.

"You seem very grown up for a kid," Angrbooda appreciatively looks over the teenager. "Where does that come from?"

"Thank you, but I'm not sure about what you mean," Fenrir worries.

"Ignore her, she likes to talk in riddles," Amora waves her off. "Do you have a family name? I don't remember the Tyalroy family having servants. I didn't think they were rich enough."

"Lady Elaina pulled me and my sister, Hela, from the orphanage," Fenrir explains. "We have no family name."

"Common enough among lesser nobles," Angrbooda shrugs.

"That must be a lot of work for the two of you," Amora says kindly. "I'm happy to of met you. Is there anyone else that helps?"

"Thank you. It's just me and my sister as servants. Lady Zarai runs the kitchen, when Lord Magyr doesn't need her. Lady Elaina helps out when she can. She trains the direwolves with me," Fenrir explains. "Is there anything I can help you with?"

"We got lost on the way back to the carriage," Amora smiles.

"But it's not even thirty feet from the front door to the gate," Fenrir points, before slamming his hand over his mouth. "I apologize, my lo-lady. I should not argue with you."

"We were watching the stars and found you, to be honest," Amora smiles. "I was worried about you sleeping out here. It may be spring, but it is still cold at night."

"Oh, don't worry. I've got… the direwolves help keep me warm," Fenrir smiles brightly up at him, giving away what he is trying to hide.

"Thank you for the conversation. We really should be leaving," Amora helps Angbrooda up and they make it back to the carriage.

Once inside, Amora grabs the giantess's face and locks their gazes. "No."

"Then I'll do it without your help," Angrbooda grumbles, pushing Amora back into her seat.

"If there's no stopping you, and I'm too good of friends to report you, I may as well join you," Amora sighs.

"You of all people should empathize with Elaina and want to help me get her out. Why don't you?!" Angrbooda asks, angrily looking out the window, on the way back to the palace.

"With this picking for Loki's wife, I'm trying to stay out of trouble, that's all," Amora shrugs.

"You know his best chance is Sigyn," Angrbooda pouts. "There is no way the council is letting the prince—even the younger one—marry the heir to the northern mountains. We used to be our own realm before Asgard took it over and attempted—and failed—to assimilate us. We're like the Black Marshes and the Souther Isles. I was never expecting to even be in the running.

"And then there is you, little miss doesn't-know-how-to-cross-her-legs," Angrbooda teases.

"There's nothing wrong with that," Amora defends.

"Not to our generation, but to the council? They're all half dead warrior men of pure Asgardian decent. People think Asgard has become such a progressive realm since the war with Vanaheim and the Queen married in, but sometimes I think we're worse than the Midgardian dark ages. The council will never let Loki marry you.

"Which means he picked us to help him decide on a wife—he's calling on our friendship to help him set up this next big step in his life. I mean, I know if either asked, he would marry us in a heartbeat, but we won't because he can't.

"Which brings us to Sigyn. She's perfect for him. She would be a great wife for Loki. The council would have nothing against it. He does more than tolerate her—he could learn to love her. He knows how valuable she is for him.

"So why did he pick Elaina? Answer me that, Amora," Angrbooda dares.

"Your guess is as good as mine," Amora shrugs, agreeing with everything the taller woman says. She has known this is most likely the case since the beginning, just hasn't wanted admit to it yet. It means her days are numbered with her favorite lover.

"If he thinks he can blame me for rescuing the girl he put in my lap, he has another thing coming," Angrbooda says. "I'm getting her out of it, because it won't ruin me. It might kick you out of the capital, but we always talked about you moving in at my place anyway."

"Ha! Like I could stand being locked up on a mountain! If I'm leaving the palace, it's to go on my own adventure," Amora smiles big. "But you are aware the council would have nothing against him picking Elaina. That could be a reason. He saw someone talented enough to fit…" she stops when she feels the full power of Angrbooda's glare.

"He wanted you to play with her," Angrbooda states. "He has admitted she is just a plaything to him. I can't always stop him from his crazy ideas like this—that's your job—but I'll be damned if I let anyone hurt her."

"Yes, I'm well aware of your views," Amora sighs. "I only said I would help him to keep an eye on her and make sure he doesn't ruin her too much."

"Good. Now help me save her the rest of the way," Angrbooda says.

"Fine fine, that's just another thing to add to my list," Amora says. "Help you with Elaina. Help Loki with Elaina. Help you get Sigyn for Loki. Help Loki with his thrall. Help Loki with this Mad Hatter he is chasing. Keep up appearances so my _activities_ don't reflect badly on Loki. Norns, can't a woman get a breather?"

"Well, when you say it like that, it doesn't sound like you have enough to do. Would you like me to find something else for you to work on? Perhaps joining the theater like Sigyn?" Angrbooda teases.

"Why not?" Amora jokes.

* * *

Meanwhile, Angrbooda's plan gets put into effect.

"It is such an honor to have my daughter's friends join us for dinner," Magyr welcomes Amora and Angrbooda. Zaria and Elaina have set the table and welcome them as well. Once everyone sits, Amora chats idly with Zaria and Elaina until dessert. Magyr is entertained by Angrbooda's stories of war.

"This is delicious," Amora compliments.

"My daughter seems to have a gift with making things, from baking to potions. She has been spending more time with you. Has she been a good student?" Magyr asks.

"A wonderful student," Amora thanks the norns for the perfect segway. "In fact, I have been considering taking her on as an apprentice."

Elaina's jaw drops and even Magyr shows some surprise.

"That is a lovely idea," Zaria puts forward.

"Yes, I do believe our daughter would benefit from such a friendship," Magyr looks over at Elaina. "I have nothing against you becoming her apprentice."

"I-I would love too," Elaina attempts to cover her shock. "Thank you Lady Amora."

"I certainly look forward to this," Amora gives her a big smile.

* * *

The next day Elaina finds herself in Amora's private sparing room.

"I thought you said potion making?" Elaina worries.

"I did," Amora replies, pointing to Angrbooda. "This one has some questions for you. I promise you, in here, there are no eyes watching, no ears listening."

"What is going on?" Elaina worries.

"I've rescued over 250 victims of domestic violence in my lands," Angrbooda states. "I've seen all the signs, I know what to look for. You're hiding it in order to protect him. You don't have to. He's a bad person."

"Don't you think I've thought of that?" Elaina's voice is rougher than she meant. She wasn't expecting the chance to tell anyone so soon. Her emotions got the better of her in her response. Her response isn't the one Angrbooda was expecting, but the giantess knows some people respond this way.

"I can take you out of it, without ruining your name," Angrbooda offers.

"It's not me I'm concerned about," Elaina responds roughly. She figured she started down this path, she might as well continue.

"Your mother is a victim too," Amora simply states. No question.

"Yes," Elaina responds.

"How bad is it?" Amora asks.

"I…" Elaina analyzes them, trying to figure out the purpose to this. They genuinely want to help her, but they all feel useless in this. "How could you possibly help? All of Asgard will think I was a bad child. That I deserved it."

"There are many ways," Angrbooda lists them on her fingers. "I could take you away—whether you keep your nobility intact is your choice—I could kill him, I could teach you how to fight, I could end the pain."

"Can't you just trust that I'm where I need to be?" Elaina asks with her eyes closed.

"What?" the others respond in confusion. The Talk has never gone this direction.

"I already have a plan to end the pain," Elaina says.

"No," Angrbooda says shocked. "You're not killing yourself!"

"Kill myself?" Elaina laughs shocked. "Who said anything about me dying?"

"Then what did you mean?" Angrbooda cautiously asks.

"I want to take my revenge on him, but now is not the time," Elaina says simply.

"How can you hope to without being able to fight?!" Angrbooda sighs exasperated. She never liked when victims got it in their head to take revenge.

"Dancing is not that far off from fighting. I'd go as far as to say the only difference is the intent," Elaina replies.

"Without _skilled_ intent you'll never make it," Amora points out. Elaina looks at her sadly, as if she wants to say something.

"I was going to poison him, with stuff from your collection—" Elaina admits and receives a laugh.

"So that's why you were so eager," Amora chuckles. "You don't know the first thing about poison, do you?"

Elaina shrugs.

"Where did you think you'd learn?" Amora asks, interpreting Elaina's shrug the wrong way.

"Certainly not us," Angrbooda shakes her head. "I'm not going to be responsible for you becoming a murderer."

"Do you have a way to poison him?" Elaina asks.

"Yes, but you'll have to do something for us first," Amora barters easily.

"What is it?" Elaina asks.

"We originally set this up so you could learn self-defense from Angie here," Amora nudges the giantess. "While I have a schedule made up for a year out, it's an easy cover."

"But won't people suspect?" Elaina asks.

"Why, when you'll bring home a sample every time, like promised? And we will be making potions still, no reason to throw that away," Amora shrugs.

"Why?" Elaina asks. "Angrbooda's been doing this for a while. Why you?"

"How do you think she started?" Amora asks.

"Uh…" Elaina can't think of anything.

"I was the first person she saved," Amora replies. "And have I been ruined? No."

* * *

As for this chapter, if it feels like I tried shoving two chapters into one, I did. The first was _far_ less words than my chapter average, and I refused to leave it like that. The other was slightly low, so now it's just one chapter.


	13. 13 - The Family's: Kyra Tully

As always, thanks for reading!

* * *

The second family Thor meets with is Kyra's. She's wearing a scarlet dress, with accents that remind him of Sif's armor. Her mother's dress is more decorated, attempting to outdo her daughter again. Lord Tully's outfit is a rare silk from Nidavellir.

The Tully family presents more gifts to them. Odin receives a new helm, crafted in the fires of Mount Stix—the oldest active volcano in Vanaheim. Frigga receives a rare silk dress. Thor is presented with a dagger from Castiel's forge. Castiel is the best one the nine realms have. He also receives one for Loki, though Loki doesn't join them for dinner. This disappoints Thor, he wanted to ask Loki about how chasing the Mad Hatter went last night.

"Welcome, welcome," Odin's voice booms. "We are thankful for the gifts from the Tully family. We welcome you here, please share our meal with us."

They begin feasting, with a pleasant conversation rolling about. After dessert, Thor asks to enjoy Kyra's company in the gardens while the parents discuss other issues. He escorts her out and they walk around a garden.

"How often do you practice formally?" Kyra asks another question about him. He noticed how much she is trying to invest in him, and attempts to do the same.

"Twice a week," Thor replies. "Once a month, I take the men who are lagging behind on a special training camp, and on another day of the month, I take the men who are doing their best."

"I suppose this may be easier with Angrbooda living in the palace now," Kyra comments.

"You know about her talents?" Thor asks.

"Not much before I came to live here myself. I get woken up occasionally by her shouting in an attempt to train your men," Kyra chuckles.

"I could talk to her about that. She knows better than too—" Thor starts.

"Oh, please don't. I rather enjoy it. My father, always worried for my protection, has hired many people over the years to teach me how to defend myself. You know, as a merchant we're targeted by thieves and rapists. I never really took to the lessons though," Kyra explains.

"Why not?" Thor asks curiously.

"Because of why I'm here," Kyra sighs. When he just looks at her curiously, she continues. "I'm a woman. They all attempted to teach me as if I was some delicate broad. Our bodies are more similar than people think. Hearing Angrbooda helps encourage me to do my morning exercises, I suppose."

"Would you like a teacher? I'm sure Lady Sif or Lady Angrbooda would be willing to teach you," Thor says with mirth. "I remember learning with them. Often times, when we were young, my brother and I, and Lady Sif, were sent to Angrbooda's mountains to learn to fight. Sif learned from her a bit, and from the teacher. It's where their rivalry comes from.

"Angrbooda is an excellent fighter. And an impressive teacher, if you have nothing against bruises. Being half a giant, I'm not sure she knew her own strength as a kid. I'm sure she's calmed down since then. And she might even be willing to teach you," Thor offers.

"Have you fought her since you were kids?" Kyra asks.

"No," Thor admits.

"Scared?" Kyra teases.

"I'd rather not fight a lady," Thor admits.

"At least someone has honor here," Kyra sighs. "I just found out one of the servants who was supposed to move my things here tried stealing from me. I think his name was Mance, or Rance. Something like that. And to think I heard about it from other servants, instead of being told."

"Commander Froseti would have dealt with him appropriately, no reason to worry a beautiful lady about such trivial matters," Thor tries to please her.

"Trivial?" Kyra asks offended. "Someone tried to steal from me and you call that trivial? Thieves are scum, not a one is worth sparing of the headsman's block. I've lost too many good business deals because of _thieves_. And this attempt was personal. I expect him dead, Thor."

"Of course, my lady," is all Thor can manage at how brash she is about it. He was not expecting her to passionately _hate_ thieves.

* * *

With lush couches framing the fire place as shelves of books and trinkets lining the walls, the room screams 'look at me, I'm so important!' Unfortunately, that makes the guests slightly uneasy—specifically lady Sif.

Don't get her wrong, she has nothing against wearing dresses. Especially because the one she is wearing right now is made out of the softest silk she owns. But she would prefer to be in her armor. Just in case there is an attack and needs to fight. Full dresses are so confining.

Across the small table covered in pastries is Vor, who appears to be paying attention to the stories being told by Nanna and her mother, both of them are sitting on the couch between the others.

The stories are ridiculous. Nanna couldn't decide on what dress to wear at the first ball. The other day she was walking around the market and some guy bought her a necklace—but she wasn't sure if she should accept it since she is being considered as Thor's future wife. That sentence makes Sif want to remind Nanna that her and Vor are as well—and same with Kyra, but tonight her family is meeting with the King, Queen, and Loki.

Everything has been about Nanna and how beautiful and soft and how much of a woman she is. Sif catches a backhanded compliment towards her every so often, and a few towards Vor and Kyra. "Sif is so beautiful, if only she dressed in actual dresses more." "Vor is so wise, sometimes I wonder how she doesn't scare away the children." "Kyra makes an amazing business woman, if only she was born a man she wouldn't be expected to get married and give up her dreams."

Only the years of having to deal with Frandal the flirtatious, Hogun the silent-unless-you-bring-up-a-subject-he-is-passionate-about, Volstagg one-more-bite, and Thor hammer-first-ask-questions-maybe, has built up her patients enough to deal with Nanna and her copycat of a mother.

When an hour turns into two, and then three, and then the sun sets, Sif has finally had her fill. As she is about to fake remembering a promise to train with Frandall, Nanna's mother leaves and her comments take a turn Sif was not expecting.

"Do you ever get that feeling you've just got to keep talking just to keep someone quite?" Nanna asks, her personality slipping from a conservative chatty Cathy to laidback in seconds.

"If you did not want your mother to join us, why did you not say anything?" Vor asks.

"It's not that big of a deal. I just don't like the way she watches me, you know? It's almost like she's memorizing my every move to one day take my place," Nanna laughs. "Oh, that would be the day. I could finally have a day off. Finally!"

"Why would she?" Sif asks.

"It was a joke, warrior-lady," Nanna unappreciatively rolls her eyes. "Gods, are you more uptight than Kyra? I swear she's a prude. I sent her an invitation to host this last week, but she declined insisting that I be the first one since it is my idea. Sorry, lady, I'm not made of money. I would have hosted last week, if Thor hadn't picked my family as the first to meet. I'm covering this week. She'll join us next week, but she's said nothing about hosting herself."

"I doubt Thor picked," Sif says.

"Oh? And what do you know about how this works behind closed doors, Miss-Thor's-childhood-best-friend?" Nanna dares.

"What are you accusing me of?" Sif demands.

"Dear Vor, can you help to explain how cruel of a position she is in?" Nanna looks over at Vor. "Honestly. Can't she see it? You can, right?"

"Lady Sif, many people have been accusing you of sleeping with Thor to win your shield—even though that is the time in your life you had the least contact with him. Nanna is implying that you have a more _personal_ advantage than we do. Both are ways to attempt to discredit you," Vor states, not too unkindly for all the harsh truth they expose.

"If you have a problem with me, Lady Nanna, then tell me to my face, in plain words," Sif sits straighter.

"Plain? Why, because all warrior's skulls are as thick as their armor?" Nanna pokes. "Oh, that was a good one. I want to write that down." Sif stands up quickly.

"I will not tolerate such insults thrown around!" Sif orders. "Insult me all you desire. But the moment you insult _warriors_—the bravest people Asgard has ever beheld—you are crossing the line. Not only are you insulting me, but by using that word, you are insulting Prince Thor and Odin the Allfather! I will not have it."

"Opps, are you on your period? That's quite the over exaggeration, wouldn't you say Vor? I think she's taking this too personally, what about you?" Nanna smirks.

"She is a warrior, not a noble lady like us. She has every right to be willing to defend her warrior class," Vor chides. She doesn't miss Sif's flinch at the 'not a noble lady' part, and considers rephrasing it, but Nanna speaks before she gets a chance.

"You heard her," Nanna says smugly at Sif. "Why are you trying to ruin the prince even more? It's bad enough you tried to get him to elope—"

SMACK!

Sif's eyes widen as see watches Nanna fall off the couch in slow motion from Vor's slap.

"I will not have you insulting her," Vor states implacably before offering her arm to Sif. "Come, we do not need to be feed such poison."

"Don't you dare tell anyone!" Nanna sheaths, before running out. Sif accepts Vor's arm as they walk out.

"Why would we tell anyone?" Sif asks the much smaller woman, barely old enough to call an adult.

"Apparently I have the reputation of being so wise, that when I am angered… run," Vor smirks. "It has apparently become one of the worst insults of chatty noble women to be slapped by me. Apologize you had to see that. I haven't quite learned to control my temper."

"I've heard the rumors, but dismissed them upon meeting you," Sif admits, helping Vor into the carriage and climbing in after her. "Run from the anger of the wise, for it can tear apart people's lives. If you don't apologize, it will eat your life from the inside out. I took you as too kind to do that."

"I've done it a handful of times," Vor shrugs. "People mainly compare me to my mother. She used to be known as _the Commoners' Norn_."

"I'm afraid I haven't heard of that. And did you use the past tense? Is she…?" Sif asks politely.

"Yes, she died shortly after my brother died from a disease," Vor shrugs. "And the Commoners' Norn is a myth of Vanaheim. You're pure Asgardian, having grown up in the Palace. I wouldn't expect you to know. If you would like, I could share her story."

"Yes please," Sif smiles half friendly, half smugly. She knows the rumor of Vor slapping Nanna will be out by sunrise, even if neither of them tell.

"The Norns are the gods of the Nine Realms," Vor explains. "There is a temple to them in every realm—though the one in Midgard is not maintained. The High Priestesses are supposed to be the link between the Norns and the commoners. But occasionally a commoner receives enough divine guidance, and is accepted by the people as a priestess of the Norns, even without any training."

"I've never heard of that happening here," Sif admits.

"True, I think Vanaheim is the only place that would accept and allow such a thing," Vor admits. "Even back in Vanaheim… The people loved her. Then they questioned my father when he suggested Frigga marry Odin to help end the last war. They tolerated her being married to him, and began to tolerate her when she became more political. After she died, no one wanted us there, so we came to Asgard and has been happy ever since."

"Do you mind if I ask how your mother died?" Sif asks.

"The sad sickness," Vor admits. Sif bites her lip, understanding that euphemism. Vor's mother was so upset at the loss of her son, she took her own life—the only way the Vanier can die is to be killed or old age. They are even more resistant to disease than the Asire, but their culture frowns on suicide, calling it a cowardly death so they would rather call it 'the sad sickness.'

"I apologize for asking," Sif says.

"That's what friends do," Vor shrugs. "May I ask you something?"

"Of course," Sif says, believing it is only fair.

"What do you think of your competition?" Vor asks.

"Nanna may not deserve your full wrath, but she certainly deserves something. Thor would never be able to handle her like that," Sif sighs. "Kyra is quite impressive. She would make a good wife for Thor, if she didn't spend all her time in her business. She is mostly likely to gain the most from this, regardless of which way Thor decides."

"And me?" Vor asks.

"You would be a wise queen," Sif compliments sincerely.

"If only I wanted to," Vor smiles.

"Why would you accept the invitation if you do not?" Sif wonders.

"Take your pick," Vor shrugs. "It allows my father a chance to be close to his best friend before she became queen. It's impolite to decline such a spectacular invitation. It's an insult to reject the Prince's interest. He's a good man, and it's nice to make friendships."

"I see," Sif sympathizes. "Perhaps I could talk to him into something?"

"I would rather not," Vor admits. "I like the friendship excuse. Though who would want to be friends with Nanna are certainly digging for fishes."

"True," Sif chuckles. "Friendships are often more valuable than fishes."

"And you are more wise than the realm believes," Vor points out, making Sif uneasy. The warrior wasn't hiding anything, but to be told that by Vor the Wise, it can be very unnerving. "Yours is a friendship I will relish."


	14. 14 - Loki

I apologize for not posting next week. My computer has been in the shop for a week and a half. I am posting last weeks chapters and this week's chapters right now. If I have access to a computer, I'll post a bonus chapter Sunday, but I can't guarantee i'll be on schedule.

warning: Loki x Amora sex at the end

* * *

"I was expecting this list a week ago," Loki glares up at his thrall.

"I was gathering permission to name names, your grace," Bravossi bows slightly. He only bows when he really needs Loki to just accept what he has said.

"At least you got it to me," Loki looks it over. "So now I have a list of sanctuaries, fakes in the vaults, people bound and people willing to talk… what's the difference?"

"The bound are employed in the castle, willing to talk with the exchanges I've listed. Those willing to talk may or may not be bound. I've listed their price and location as well," Bravossi answers, nerveously fingering his collar.

"I thought you said you liked being a thrall," Loki eyes the movement.

"I do, I like the feel of collars," Bravossi admits and gets a fairly seductive look in response. "Yes, I'm a sub. You're finally going to fuck me?"

"Not today, I have more pressing matters," Loki says and is genuinely pleased with the distraught pout Bravossi gives him. "Namely visiting a few of these people."

"You are mean," Bravossi states and gets glared at. "…your grace."

"Better," Loki looks over the lists again.

"How else may I assist you?" Bravossi asks

"You've listed the 'Edge of the Fountain path'? What is that?" Loki asks.

"One of the secret passage ways," Bravossi states.

"I know about all of them," Loki glares at him.

"Do you?" Bravossi teases. Loki's glare gets darker for a moment, before sending a seductive smile. Bravossi gulps nervously.

"Tell me and I might just make it worth your time," Loki dares.

"There are seventeen secret passage ways only accessible to magic, four only accessible through Wild Magic, seven originally intended for servants that are no longer in use. There used to be two more but one was caved in and another has been flooded," Bravossi admits without missing a beat. Loki stares at him for a moment. He only knew about twelve, and though none of the Soul Spells. He vaguely knew about the servant's passage ways, though only three are only ever used. The others have either been ignored, never maintained, or forgotten about. Well, not truly forgotten about because Bravossi knows.

"I bet that last one is no problem for you," Loki finally says.

"Not at all, your grace," Bravossi smiles up at him. "Now how else can I be of service, or do you want to talk to Eric the stable master? I can take you along a secret path if you would like."

"Let's go," Loki summons his cloak.

"The simpler you are dressed the better," Bravossi advises.

Loki drops the cloak, the rest of his armor shimmering away to just his tunic, breeches, belts, and boots.

"The Soul Spell passage will know you have your armor under your illusion," Bravossi states. Loki glares at him for a moment, before waving his hand again and the armor truly disappears.

Much to his surprise, the path they take starts behind his fireplace. It comes out in the loft of the stables. Down below the loft some stable hands are playing cards. Bravossi swallows a blue pill and transforms into a woman.

"Mind changing me into some one prettier?" Bravossi asks. He isn't sure if he should be dismayed or flattered at Loki's choice. Bravossi's outfit turns into a slightly revealing,emerald halter-top dress. Her collar becomes a simple necklace. Her shoes remain those of a servants, the same ranking as the rest of her outfit.

"I should have known," Bravossi's lighter voice meets Loki's ears. "Kiss me luck?"

"You truly want me, don't you?" Loki asks.

"Who doesn't want a prince as gorgeous as you, with that silver tongue of yours?" Bravossi teases. She is slightly surprised when Loki does give her a quick, teasing peck on the cheek. Bravossi then plays her part, leading the men out of the stables.

"What can I do for ya, mi grace?" a rougher voice from behind asks. Loki turns to find a stout man, with a graying beard to show his age. He's only got leather breeches on, and Loki doesn't need to see through the door to know the man was with a whore.

"You're Soul Bound to the Mad Hatter. Why?" Loki asks.

"Din't Bravo boi tell ya how this is done? You can have my hide for admit-tin' things, but as it is, you've just his word that I know that friend of yours," Eric shrugs. "You don't got mi hide yet."

"He said you wanted better grazing lands for the horses, better feed, and someone to purchase fire horses form Drog'nira?" Loki asks in disbelieve. "Not a thing for yourself?"

"You misunde-stand the point of Soul Spells," Eric sighs. "Horses are mine kin. It's called Animal Soul, or Wild Magic. They're in mi blood and I'm in theirs. Gettin them betta stuff _is _for me."

"Then I assure you I will get you these things," Loki says. "Name the grazing lands, I'll authorize feed. And I'll find someone to purchase the horses."

"I'm sendin mi wife," Eric nods back over his shoulder.

"Done," Loki says.

"One more thing," Eric says. "If mi grace wouldn't mind looking over a horse I've got. I know exactly where it's hurting, but I've got no way to magic it. Can you find someone for him?"

"I'd have to take a look at the horse first," Loki knew it was too easy. Eric leads him down the stalls to a rather large one at the end. He opens the door and Loki walks in.

His breath is taken away. The darkest shadow—almost a void consuming the light—lies against the wall. The beast has eight legs. He whinnies softly, smelling a new person and looks straight into Loki's eyes. Those orbs are the exact emerald as his, and call to him.

Gently, as to not disturb the young foal, Loki walks over and kneels in front of the horse.

"Where is the pain coming from?" Loki asks. Eric responds, but Loki is too focused on the horse's reactions. The horse uses its nose to point to its stomach.

"Oddly intelligent, that one," Eric says.

"What's his story?" Loki asks, gently feeling the infected area with his magic.

"Necromancy," Eric says. This angers Loki. "Our mutual friend b'ought him ta me a few days ago, he won't last past the night."

"He's been here this entire time and we didn't know? How did you hide him from the royal family? The guards?" Loki asks, intrigued.

"We din't," Eric shrugs. "Filled out the proper papers fine and everything. You nobles never bother askin. Once you open your eyes, you'll see there'all kinds of treasures hid here in plain sight. Our friend put them here."

"What's his name?" Loki asks.

"That's the pity," Eric sighs. "With my soul, I can hear their names on them. He is the first horse I can't."

Loki brushes the horse's dark hair gently, feeling not only the creature relax, but the magic tangled around the creature as well. It is a wealth of power, unlike anything he has ever felt before. Loki _knows_ if he could train this horse, it would become a thing of legend—its physical strength alone would be enough. And then there is this magic.

His lessons with Bravossi about Soul Spells have been more productive recently. It must be because of Eric's talk of Soul Spells that that is the first magic Loki attempts to use to discover this horse's magic.

Loki reaches inside himself, to that image of himself. After a few moments, that new warmth begins to spread through him. He can hear a child outside calling for its mother, and attempts to block it out.

The horse pulls back, whinnying in pain. Loki opens his eyes, trying to figure out why. He discovers white tendrils sewn all over the horse. He instantly recognizes the Soul Magic. He reaches for the knots where the horse pointed, but can't grab them with his hands.

So he tries to grab them with his soul. It takes a ton of energy, since he isn't completely sure what he is doing. Before long, he has worked up a sweat just sitting there. He refuses to give up until the knot is untied.

* * *

Many hours later, Loki opens his eyes when the horse blows against his neck, whinnying happily.

"Sleipnir," Loki whispers, as the blue recedes from his skin.

"Don't do that again!" Bravossi demands, back as a man in his normal clothes. Loki looks at him strangely.

"Do what?" Loki asks, worried about Bravossi's obvious fear. He looks at Eric, to find the man fully dressed, signs of having cried, and holding a woman to him as they sit in the corner of the stall. He also notices it is dark out—he missed both lunch and dinner.

"You just _Soul Bound_ with a horse! What were you thinking, your grace?!" Bravossi scolds.

"I needed to untie his hurt," Loki says, before looking over at Eric and his wife. "His name is Sleipnir."

"Thank you," Eric's wife sounds like she has been crying too.

"You idiot! Soul Binds are irreversible! If you wanted to help him, you should have asked me to set up barriers so you wouldn't get bound. You still would have done what you did, but without turning the horse into your child!"

"So?" Loki states. "I don't mind having a horse as a child."

"But…" Bravossi tries to come up with an excuse. "He's not just your child. You bound in the position of a mother! There's lots of things your soul will want to do. You're going to have unstoppable nurturing feelings for him. And you… are you thinking straight, your grace?"

"Why were you two crying?" Loki ignores Bravossi to talk to the stable master and his wife.

"We velt your Soul Spell. It was too beautiful what you did for Sleipnir," Eric's wife says. "We are honored to have been graced with such a display."

"Display? Who all knows?" Loki asks suddenly suspicious.

"Only the seven of us. They're talking about Soul Spells. You didn't put on some display that would have alerted anyone else," Bravossi sighs.

"Seven?" Loki asks.

"You, me, Eric, Reina, Sleipnir, Tysh the Cook, and the Mad Hatter," Bravossi says.

"We won't tell, your grace," Reina promises.

"Why was the Mad Hatter here?" Loki demands.

"She left a note," Bravossi states. Loki's fingers curl up in Sleipnir's black hair. "Not for him. For something else. On her way out she stayed to watch."

"Does she always deliver her notes?" Loki asks.

"Not always," Bravossi admits.

"I should go…" Loki stands up, only for the world to spin around him.

* * *

He wakes up hours later in his own bed. He waves towards a candle to light it and it explodes.

"I suppose I should have warned you about that," Bravossi says tiredly from the floor.

"What happened?" Loki groans.

"Not only did you miss two meals, but you used a Soul Spell for the better part of eight hours and you completed a Soul Bind. Of course you passed out," Bravossi punctuates with a yawn. "I'll go get food."

"I'm not hungry," Loki attempts to get up and finds himself far weaker than he ever imagined possible.

"It doesn't matter, you need food," Bravossi scolds. "Wait here, I'll have Tysh make you something that will sustain you."

Before Loki passes out again, he remember Tysh is one of the people on his list. He makes a mental note to thank her personally.

* * *

"What do you know of wild magic?" Loki asks.

"I thought you called me here for sex?" Amora replies.

"We will," Loki sighs as he stands up from his desk and walks over to the middle of the room. She puts her arms around his neck as he puts his hands on her hips. "I was just talking with my thrall about it—he claims to be able to use it but I have my suspicions."

"It's supposed to be a myth, started out in vanaheim, didn't it? Wait… no, what's that small marshy land right next Vanaheim?" Amora thinks.

"The Black Marshes?" Loki suggests.

"Yeah. That. The Vanaheim claim to have learned it from the marshes," Amora shrugs. "Has it caught your interest to the point you just wanted a wall to talk to, not sex? You should have said so. I would have taken care of myself beforehand."

"No, you silly woman," Loki chuckles as he kisses her lightly. She chases him back, kissing harder. After a few more kisses, he continues: "I was just wondering if you came across anything like Wild Magic when researching the Mad Hatter for me… You do remember offering to do so, right?"

"Oh, right I did. Haha. I've just been helping Angrbooda and yeah, it slipped my mind," Amora says lightheartedly. Loki's eyes narrow slightly, wondering. The Mad Hatter did say he knew her under her mask, and he hasn't been able to shake off his suspicion that she is one of his close friends.

"Are you sure you're not hiding something?" Loki asks. He gasps when a hand he didn't notice snake into his hair tugs hard.

"Only my desire for you," Amora says seductively.

* * *

sex

* * *

She kisses him again, pressing into him and feeling his need pressing against her. "And apparently I found yours."

"You tease," Loki smirks.

"I learned from the best," Amora sighs as his hands dance along her sides.

"I taught you well," Loki dives into her mouth, pulling a moan from her. She gets week in the knees, so he walks her back to the bed where they tumble with a laugh. She grinds up against him, no so silently begging for more.

He gently helps her out of her dress, then sits back on his knees and looks over her flushed form. Deciding on where to start, he kisses along a shoulder and she squirms, trying to laugh because she is ticklish. Unfortunately for her, that was his plan. Fingers dance across her skin, pulling a laugh from her.

He kisses farther down her collar bone, decorating it with hickies. He kisses between her brests and worships them as her breathy moans edge him on. "Amora."

She just lies there panting.

"Amora. Look at me."

She gives in and meets his dilated eyes. The moment she does, a finger firmly presses against her clitoris and she buckles under a wave of pleasure. "Loki, Loki, Loki," she chants as his hands do their job.

She jumps up an octave when his tongue takes the place of his fingers, as they slide into her. She squirms under his touch, him playing her like a well-tuned instrument.

"Take me already," Amora groans.

"Eager much?" Loki teases.

"Take me or I will finish the job myself," Amora threatens.

"As you wish," Loki strips off his clothes and tosses them away before he smoothly guides himself into her. Her moans turn needy, just like he like them, as he pounds in and out of her, giving as much pleasure as she is giving him.

They crash over the edge together, room loud with their moans. And, like always, he tells her to leave before they fall asleep.

* * *

On the other side of the palace, things aren't as happy.

"You still don't like heights because of how I teased you," Leo laughs.

"Uncle, I was but a child, not even a decade old. You held me over a cliffside—how did you think that was a good idea?!" Kyra laughs.

"After you stopped your screaming you laughed at it too," Leo playfully says. "I swear, you don't stay scared at things for long."

"That doesn't excuse you from being an evil man," Kyra teases. The clock dings the time. "Oh, sweet uncle. Must you live so far off? I could certainly use someone as strong as you."

"My dear, this is the palace, you are well protected here," Leo says calmly. "I must be leaving before my wife decides the bed is more comfortable alone."

"I will miss you. You must visit again soon," Kyra hugs him and leads him to the door. A servant comes up to her.

"My apologies, my lady, but… something happened in your chambers," the servants says.

"Can't this wait?" Kyra sighs.

"Its fine, go, go," Leo says. "I can find my way from here."

"I love you uncle," Kyra hugs him again before walking away. He doesn't get very far before her scream pulls him back in. He rushes in and to her room.

The entire ceiling has been covered by a mural. The picture is a happy one, with a family of five in it. One is a slightly older Kyra, with her curly red hair cut short—something she would never do—wearing common clothes. The only one taller than her is a man, but only his back is painted. The only defining feature is his hair color—a rusty auburn. The kids all have her mass of curls, the eldest with hair as red as hers. The youngest is a boy with light brown hair, and dancing golden eyes. The only girl has a perfect mix of hair color, and laughing happily.

Strewn across the mural is bright orange words:

_I will steal Lady Kyra's dream – Mad Hatter_

Leo does his best to comfort his niece as the guards arrive. She mutters darkly about thieves, cursing and damning them. She swears the Mad Hatter will pay.


	15. 15 - The Family: Amora

"Thank you," Amora says, rather nervously hanging onto Thor's arm. "I owe you for this."

"Nonsense," Thor says happily. "It is my duty as the prince of Asgard—the one that you are not being considered for—to step into your parent's shoes because neither of yours is available. It is my honor as a friend to escort a beauty such as you."

"Use that line on Sif and she'll swoon," Amora teases, receiving a blushing chuckle.

The doors to the dining hall open exposing the grand room. On one end of the large table Odin stands in a freshly pressed tunic and pants, looking plain. Frigga stands at his side, a big smile as her only accessory to her plain emerald dress. Loki stands at the other end, in full princely armor—minus his helm.

"Welcome!" Frigga rushes over and hugs Amora. Comfort washes over the smaller woman. This meeting is the most symbolic Amora has ever participated in. The rest of the world would take the simplicity of the King's and Queen's outfits as an insult, but it helps comfort Amora. She has been their friend (and ward, just not officially) since the incident with her father. The faux-insult would suppress all those who would snicker at Amora's title as a Goddess of Sex. Loki greeting her in full regalia is him personally addressing her as an equal. This dining hall is the Royal Family's private dining hall.

"Thank you so much for the consideration," Amora smiles to the queen. She turns to Odin, who beams at her.

"Even though you are not officially my ward, like Lady Sif, the pride I have to see you here is that of a father," Odin says, his voice thick with pride. Amora hugs him too, and then she stands in front of Loki. They hold hands, another symbol of equality.

"You are gorgeous," Loki looks her over appreciatively. She is wearing a sky blue dress lined in white—the colors of her House, the Firefly House—with a high collar, long draping sleeves, a skirt that touches the floor and a train that extends back a few feet. Her golden hair is tied up in ringlets, framing simple make up.

"Thank you, your majesty," Amora curtseys.

"Not among friends," Loki smiles at her. He leads her to the table and sits at her side. Thor sits on her other side, with Odin at the head and Frigga across from Thor.

"There is something else I wanted to announce, that I'm proud of Amora for," Thor says as the servants bring out the first dish.

"Don't you dare," Amora puts a hand on his arm.

"It must come up some time tonight. Why not now?" Thor asks.

"Did any of your women start the night with their dowry?" Amora scoffs playfully.

"No, but none of them have as much as you," Thor admits.

"But Lady Kyra runs a business. Amora couldn't possibly…" Frigga looks at her with wide-eyed, delighted surprise. "How?"

"Well, it shouldn't be that surprising, I just have good spending habits," Amora explains between bites. "When my father was convicted, everything went to my mother until I was of age. My mother passed it all onto me and returned to her family. Remember, she was a commoner originally, before the debacle known as my birth. I put away an unreasonably high dowry from that inheritance, because I didn't want to limit my future options. Even now, with my dowry alone I could marry anyone, regardless of my reputation. It wasn't even a quarter of the inheritance, and I haven't had to dip into it at all with my potion-making bringing in coin. I have 50,000 gold pieces saved away."

Frigga gasps and Odin smiles proudly. The average is 8,000 – 10,000 gold pieces.

"I told you I was proud of her," Thor chuckles.

Amora looks to Loki, and finds his expression one of longing, before he quickly covers that up with desire. "I knew you were quite the catch."

"Careful, one day they might just start calling me the best magician," Amora teases.

"You wish," Loki teases back.

Happy conversation continues as the courses fly by. Eventually talk returns to the upcoming consideration. "As Queen, it is my duty to be concerned for the reputation you have made yourself."

"I know," Amora sighs. "Amora the Enchantress they call me, because I've seduced married men."

"No, married men have been stupid enough to go around their wives' back and try to sleep with you. It is not your fault if they proposition you in a sexual nature," Thor scolds gently.

"Even if that is the truth, the rest of the realm doesn't see it like that," Amora shrugs. "Hey, you win some you lose some. With a reputation like this I could seduce foreign dignitaries—stop laughing I have a valid point!" Amora scolds Loki.

"I'm sorry," Loki tries to get it under control. "Do continue."

"I could seduce foreign dignitaries into spilling secrets—even if those secrets are simply who is willing to cheat," Amora offers.

"True, that would be useful blackmail," Loki agrees.

"Blackmail?" Thor asks, slightly offended.

"Don't pretend like it doesn't happen," Loki shakes his head. "You know full well it does. The court is full of plenty of blackmail material."

"But in this position I have to object," Thor stammers.

"Why?" Loki asks. "If you're picked to be king, I'm your main advisor. Feeding you secrets will be my job. If I'm picked to be king, all the realms are going to run to my queen because of her former reputation, and she can use that as blackmail."

Odin's fidgeting gets passed off as a dislike for these not-so-honest-trades. Frigga's sitting up straighter could simply be passed off as readjusting her sitting position. No one would guess at their future plans for the throne(s).

"I suppose," Thor nods. "How does Lady Amora feel about your plan?"

"I love it," Amora says and earns a laugh. "Send all the foreign dignitaries to me. I want to see how stupid they are."

"Eventually," Loki pats her arm. "Until then, a toast? To our friendship."

"To our friendship," the others toast.

* * *

"Friendship?" Sygin asks.

"Why not?" Angrbooda lounges on the couch. "Friends are important to have, especially now." She plucks a berry off the table between them. Across from her sits Sygin, on the couch between then Elaina. To apologize for missing the last few gatherings, she offered to host. Angrbooda took it instantly, and was slightly disappointed to find out that Lord Magyr only accepted because he would be out on business tonight.

"True," Sygin says. "Gatherings such as these can plant the seeds between our families that I hope we cultivate."

"Poetic," Angrbooda agrees. "Great, so twenty questions?"

"You don't form lots of friendships, do you?" Elaina asks.

"What, how else are we supposed to learn about each other?" Angrbooda asks.

"A discussion maybe?" Elaina offers.

"We can have a discussion when Amora is here," Angrbooda scoffs. "Hey, that's the first thing to note about me. I'm impatient and I like to get to the point, not fill the air with wind."

"Wind?" Sigyn asks.

"Words are wind," Elaina says. "Shouldn't it be 21 questions? We split that in three and then we all take a turn answering?"

"You're playing a different game than me, but I like it. First question, what's your purpose in life?" Angrbooda asks. The others stare at her in shock. "What?"

"That's a deep first question," Sygin says. "It will take me a moment to think about it."

"What, it's not to heal?" Angrbooda teases.

"Just because that is my title does not mean that is my purpose," Sygin replies stifled.

"Sorry, didn't mean to offend the sensitive one," Angrbooda says.

"How are we expected to be friends when you are so brash?" Sygin asks.

"You were a lot less of a prude when we played around at Amora's," Angrbooda defends.

"Because she is nice, and you're not," Sygin states.

"Oh, look, the pie!" Elaina jumps up and helps her mom serve some plates. The other two thankfully accept it. "Strawberry, just my favorite. What is yours?"

"I prefer raspberry," Sygin admits.

"I prefer rockslide," Angrbodda says, but wolfs up her piece. "Another please."

"So, uh, that was my first. Should I come up with six more, or pass it on?" Elaina asks, as her mother dishes up another piece.

"You both ducked out of answering mine," Angrbooda pouts.

"My purpose is to provide for my family," Elaina states.

"Mine is to fulfill the expectations of my family," Sigyn states.

"Mine is to save everyone and anyone from injustice. A bad home, toxic relationships, the whole nine yards. I've been doing in in the Northern Lands since I was a kid," Angrbooda brags.

"Wasn't Amora your first?" Sigyn asks.

"Yes, and we've been best friends ever since," Angrbooda says.

"Oh," Sigyn says disheartened.

"What?" Angrbooda asks.

"That's quite a specific purpose. You really know what you're doing," Sygin says.

"It's not that big of deal. I just don't like seeing people in pain. As a healer, I'm sure you can understand that," Angrbooda says.

"Yes, I suppose," Sigyn admits.

"What is Amora's purpose?" Elaina asks.

"She wants to go on an adventure, but refuses to leave the palace, except to come to my place. Speaking of home, I'd like to formally invite you to my lands this summer," Angrbooda says.

"Oh, uh, sure," Sigyn nods, surprised at the invitation.

"I would have to ask my father," Elaina says.

"Nonsense. I'm inviting Loki and his ladies, plus Thor and his ladies," Angrbooda says. "It would be insulting for your father to refuse. If you want to, I suppose I could let it slide. Not everyone likes spending their summer in my mountains."

"I'll still talk to my parents about it," Elaina says.

"I'll issue formal invitations later, just letting you know four months ahead of time," Angrbooda shrugs. "Ok, lets continue our game. We answered my question, and yours, so know it's Sigyn's turn to ask a question."

"Oh, alright," Sygin says. "What is everyone's favorite foods?"

"Really? A simple question like that?" Angrbooda asks.

"If you want to ask deeper questions, that's your prerogative," Sigyn shrugs.

"Fine. My favorite food is roast boar, the way Nadia cooks it," Angrbooda says.

"Who is Nadia?" Sigyn asks.

"The chef back home. I swear she knows how to cook any meat to just the right tenderness, and how to use any spice," Angrbooda rubs her belly. "It's very yummy."

"I can't wait to try," Sigyn says, then looks to Elaina. "What about you?"

"Well, I have a sweet tooth. If it has sugar in it, I love it," Elaina admits. "What about you?"

"I love carrots," Sigyn says. "And pears are my second favorite."

"Nice," Angrbooda says. "What grosses you out?"

"Ew," Sigyn scoffs. "Why would you ask that?"

"Well, you're complaining about my deep questions," Angrbooda challenges.

"Rotten food," Elaina interrupts, trying to stop them from fighting. "What about you?"

"Spoiled noble ladies," Angrbooda says smugly.

"Rotten mountain ladies," Sigyn meets her gaze.

"What's your favorite thing to do?" Elaina asks. "Mine is training my direwolves."

"Wait, you have a personal hand in training them? I thought that servant boy did it. Isn't it considered too dangerous for lowlander women?" Angrbooda asks.

"I don't get hurt too often by them, and they feel sorry for it," Elaina admits. "I've been training them since I was a kid."

"Can we see them?" Angrbooda asks.

"Mother?" Elaina asks.

"That would be lovely," Zarai says meekly. Elaina leads the others outside.

* * *

scene jump to loki & Amora. Sex

* * *

"All things considering, I don't have parents to get back to," Amora says seductively as she wraps her arms around Loki's shoulders. They were walking through the gardens of Amora's wing.

"But should I despoil you before there is anything official between us? I mean, I am a prince," Loki teases.

"Bullshit, if you were worried about that you would not have seduced me all those years ago," Amora rolls her eyes.

"I seduced you now?" Loki feigns shock. "As I remember it, it was you who came to me. You seduced me."

"Oh, I doubt we'll ever know the truth," Amora teases.

"I do," Loki says smugly.

"Why? You think you always know the truth because you're the god of lies?" Amora asks.

"Of course—" he is cut off by a kiss.

"You talk too much," Amora says, before kissing him again. This is far different than their normal affections. Normally, this are so much more impassioned, so much more sexual. This long drawn out kiss is gentle. Gentle to the point in the back of his mind, Loki wishes he could stand here with her forever.

And that terrifies him. They have a sexual agreement, one that exists outside of their friendship. He never wanted to cross that line with her. He would take her as his wife if she wanted to, but he would do the same for Angrbooda. And the thing is the rest of Asgard frowns upon both ladies being his wife. They would accuse him of letting his friendships getting ahead of his princely duties. For they make good friends, but they both would make terrible wives to a prince.

Without a desire to over think this, Loki pulls her impossibly close, passionately kissing her to the point she laughs. "Ok, ok. Insatiable."

"Satisfaction is not in my nature," Loki says seductively and then attacks her neck in kisses, pulling moans out of her as she wraps herself around him. He walks her backwards against a tree, and she uses that as support as her legs wrap around him.

"The dress," Amora pants. Instantly she is naked. "Cold!"

"Make up your mind, woman," Loki bites that one spot that sends shivers all over her, just to make his point.

"I wasn't going to ruin that dress. You didn't have to remove everything," Amora grumbles, unable to withstand the onslaught of pleasure.

"Do you want something back?" Loki asks.

"No," Amora gasps as his hands kneed her breasts.

"Then shut up," Loki rolls his eyes and kisses her mouth passionately again. After a few minutes, Amora laughs. "What?"

"You're still in your full armor," Amora says. "I like it."

"Oh, yes, your uniform kink," Loki teases. Amora grabs his hair and jerks it hard, yanking a growl out of him.

"Yes, and you've got a hair pulling one. Hell, you're a bit of a masochist yourself," Amora teases.

"Bite me," Loki scoffs.

"Lick me," Amora scoffs back and squeaks as he slides down, so she is basically sitting on his shoulders, and starts licking her. She manages to grab a low branch in one hand, the other gripping his hair for balance. Her moans spill out of her; she tries to stay quite because they're outside.

That plan fails when he slides a finger in and finds her g-spot. She bucks against him, not so subtly demanding more. He obliges, adding another finger and stretching her. She can barely keep her eyes open from the pleasure, though she desperately wants to. He rarely wears his full armor during sex, claiming he doesn't want the smell or stains to stick.

Throwing her head back, Amora's orgasm sneaks up on her and rips through her so strongly she can't focus for a few moments.

When she does focus, she finds Loki lying next to her in her bed, laughing.

"What?" Amora asks.

"So much for being quiet," Loki says. Amora frowns, realizing she forgot. Her neighbors may say something tomorrow. In retaliation—because it's all his fault she felt so good—she jumps on him, and simultaneously grinds against him and bites that spot on his neck that spikes pleasure through him. His grip flies to her hips, knowing that if he doesn't controlt hem she'll just keep grinding and he will lose himself far too fast. He growls, glaring at her. She gives him her innocent face, and he just rolls his eyes.

"Come on, I'm going to take a guess, but I'm betting you want me so hard right now you are only just holding on," Amora whispers seductively into his ear. "Just let go of your sanity for a moment and let me ride you—God of Chaos."

"Amora," Loki groans at her personal nickname for him.

"You know you want to," Amora whispers, nibbling his ear.

"Last time..." Loki gasps, desperately holding onto his control because he desperately wants to take her up on that. Just to rut, just to feel, not care about the consequences. "The bruises didn't fade for days."

"So?" Amora asks. Bruising among the Asier is fairly uncommon, but when it happens hand prints on hips are common. "Take me, Loki."

Knowing she'll just tease him more if he doesn't, he takes a second to get situated and then slams into her.

"OH!" Amora throws her head back, having wanted this as much as him. He grunts as he sets an unreasonably fast pass, holding her in place above him. Moaning, she sings for him, playing with her breasts.

She clamps around him, a particularly high note telling him she's cum. He growls and flips them over, slamming them into her bed. Thankfully, she reinforced it a long time ago. Unfortunately, the movements knock against the nightstand so much her books start falling off and Lydia (who was watching them from the foot of the bed) runs out.

His climax wrenches a third one out of her, and they ride each other's out. Panting, sweaty, and fulfilled, they lie on the bed nearly passing out.

"Loki," Amora whispers.

"Hm?" he responds, not wanting to open his eyes.

"They're beautiful," Amora gently pokes the handprints on her hips. He opens his eyes, a foreign sadness etched into them. As much as he takes pleasure from some painful things during sex (the back starches he knows he has from her, the hair pulling) he doesn't like being reminded that it hurt his partner. Even when Amora begs for it.


	16. 16 - The Family's: Sif

Warning: Some Thor x Sif sex midway through

* * *

"Don't magically dye my hair again," Sif warns, taking the arm Loki offers.

"I wouldn't dream of it," Loki says sincerely. "After all, tonight is your night to impress Thor's parents. I'm proud of you."

"And yours to pretend to be mine, so don't do anything to mess it up," Sif warns.

"Come now, would I ever do anything to harm you?" Loki asks.

"I wouldn't put it past you," Sif shakes her head. "Alright, we might as well go in." With that, the doors open and they walk into the royal family's dining room. Everyone is beaming at Sif, she has been the royal ward since before she can remember. To them, she is family—definitely a daughter to Frigga, and a close friend to Odin.

"Welcome," Frigga hugs Sif before the warrior can react.

"Thanks," Sif returns the hug. "I hope I'm not overdressed."

"Nonsense," Frigga shakes her head. Sif is wearing a layered, golden top that looks a bit like armor, and the skirts are gold-thread, spreading out all around her. Her hair is up in a bun, matching Frigga's.

"Welcome Sif. Know now I say this as the man who helped raise you, not the king of Asgard," Odin offers. "I am proud of how far you have come. Your shield is a great honor for your family."

"Thank you," Sif bows graciously.

"Aye. Everything he said and more," Thor says happily and claps her on the shoulder as if she was a warrior, not just a woman. Their commodore is evident.

"Let us eat, I know I would enjoy hearing more of your stories," Loki motions to the table.

"You were there for most of them," Sif smiles, and everyone sits.

"Aye, but you have such a way for telling them," Loki says, then turns to Thor. "Don't add anything."

"And interrupt the beautiful Lady? I think not," Thor says and digs into the appetizer. And so Sif does tell a tale of bravery and fighting much to everyone's delight.

* * *

Nanna's over decorated dining room currently contains herself, her parents, Kyra, Kyra's father and her uncle, and Vor and her father. The room has been filled with talk by the fathers on one end of the table. The other end of the table has Nanna, her mother Tyniva, chatting away and occasionally remembering to bring in the other two.

Well, they have to remember Vor is there. They constantly try to bring in Kyra, the merchant princess. The gift they gave her when she arrived was obviously a bribe. The way Nanna and her mother try to include her, the more she can tell it was supposed to be a bribe for friendship. In fact, it's more often than not Kyra bringing Vor back into the conversation.

* * *

After the meal, Thor leads Sif down the halls since they have been allowed to wander.

"You are gorgeous tonight, Sif," Thor compliments. Sif chuckles and shakes her head.

"I keep expecting a frog or something to jump out of my dress. I'm surprised Loki was able to contain his tricks tonight," Sif smiles, holding Thor's arm tighter against the cold.

"He would never ruin something this important. If he does, tell me and I will set him straight," Thor jests and Sif smiles at that. "Honestly, though, Sif. You're really lucky to have him tonight. That silver tongue of his will get you the best options. I felt like I was blubbering around when I had to stand in for Amora. Thankfully, she has a high enough dowry to speak for her. Plus, I don't think she's taking it seriously."

"I wouldn't if I was her," Sif admits. "If she wants sex, she goes and gets it. If she wants to buy something, she makes enough from her potions—especially with that new shifting thing she created—to buy anything she desires. Marrying a prince would only gain her politics. And she's not the type to go after that—especially with how constraining it can be."

"Marrying a prince can be constraining?" Thor asks, trying not to let his uneasy show. While he objectively understands that, hearing it from her unnerves him.

"Marrying Loki means the woman gets put in the spotlight, constantly under scrutiny. The realm would know instantly if she wanders—which Amora most likely will. That would tarnish Loki's reputation, and insult the royal family. You know that, Thor," Sif reminds him.

"True," Thor replies. "May I ask what you think of the rest of his women?"

"Sure," Sif agrees. "Angrbooda is in the same boat as Amora, but for different reasons. She's the only heir of the Northern Mountains. There would always be political tension between the houses. Politically she is better off marrying one of her father's banner men. Both Amora and Angrbooda are Loki's close friends, but they would never desire to be his wife. Which brings me to the other two. Sigyn is Loki's best chance. I don't know why he picked that Tyalroy girl, probably just to mess with her."

"I asked him not to mess with her. Thankfully, he has done nothing that I am aware of," Thor says.

"Doesn't mean he's done nothing," Sif mutters.

"Sif," Thor warns.

"You know how he is," Sif rolls her eyes. "When I first attempted an apprenticeship, he permanently dyed my hair black. It used to look like yours."

"And you wear it proudly now, and he hasn't bothered you since," Thor says.

"The best revenge," Sif says. "Anyway, Sigyn is his best choice politically. He'll eventually learn to love her, if he isn't too cruel to her. She could one day run the healing wing, especially with the hopes her family has put on her now."

"What about my women?" Thor asks.

"Well, my original analysis stands," Sif says. "Except I know now exactly how much of a pain Lady Nanna is. She is all about fame and reputation. And pathetic manipulation. Last time, when you were meeting with Kyra, she threw a party for Lady Vor and I. She was polite for the most part. It started out an attempt for friendship. Then her mother left and she turned into a snotty gossip. I don't think you'll like her personality much. She accused me of sleeping with you for my shield."

"I will not tolerate such insults against you," Thor defends.

"I've heard it a thousand times, Thor, do not let it bother you," Sif shrugs. "I learned more about Lady Vor than I expected to. She is very kind, and extremely perceptive. I bet she could give your brother a run for his money when it comes to a challenge of wits."

"Don't let him hear you say that, he might just attempt to prove you wrong," Thor chuckles.

"Yes, yes," Sif chuckles. "Vor is a good friend. She would make a good choice for you, though somehow I think she's voting for me."

"Really?" Thor asks, happy someone besides himself is.

"Yes," Sif says. "I haven't gotten the chance to know Kyra as personally as I have Lady Vor, but from what I can tell she is like Amora. She has her life cut out for her. She could have anyone, and be anyone. Her family's business is rumored to be inherited to her fiancé, just so she can continue to run it as remarkably as she has. That is the only snag she presents for you. She would make a good wife for you, but I doubt she'll want to be a queen."

"And what about you?" Thor asks.

"Me?" Sif asks, before looking away. She forgot she was part of the running again—even if she is dolled up and on a semi-romantic walk with Thor. "You know me. I'm a warrior, blooded and true. My loyalty to the crown is unwavering… We've been friends since before I can remember. Probably had the same wet nurse. There's so much history between us…

"Thor, the realm wouldn't want me," Sif holds his gaze.

"I'm not asking what the realm wants," Thor says, his longing for her sneaking into his voice. "I've seen enough of Nanna to know she would not make a good queen. Vor might. Kyra wouldn't want to. And I want you."

"Thor, you've got to pick someone who would make a good queen," Sif reminds him.

"You would," Thor says.

"The realm wouldn't want me," Sif argues. "Pick Vor."

"I don't love her," Thor says.

"You could learn to," Sif says, slightly pleading in her voice.

"Why don't you want this?" Thor asks.

"You know I do," Sif says. A second of silence is all it takes for him to pull her close and kiss her like there is no tomorrow.

* * *

sex

* * *

Later, Sif would wonder why she allowed Thor to do this. As it is, his mouth is currently doing sinful things to hers, while his hands are attempting to undress her in the middle of the hall.

"Thor, a room," Sif manages. It takes her poking his ribcage hard for him to stop kissing her and then dragging her into an empty room. They end up on a couch in a private alcove in the library, and lock the door.

Thor kisses her hard, and she gives back just as much. Sif manages to roll them so she is on top, and groans as he grabs her ass. He works on hiking up her skirt as she unbuckles his trousers.

Before long the other's warmth is all they focus on. He preps her with a chuckles. "You really want this," Thor notes with how wet she already is.

"Shut up Thor," Sif glares at him. She positions herself, gripping his shoulders. He slides into her, a moan erupting though neither would claim it. She rides him, eyes closed focused solely on the pleasure.

Thor stares up at her with such longing. He takes in her flushed expression, mouth slightly agape as she mutters his name, eyes closed, cheeks hot, black strands falling out of her bun. She is dressed in her family colors—gold and red. Just like his. Right now he isn't just fucking his best friend and lover, but also the Lady Sif, heir to the Gryphon line.

His climax surprised the both of them. Though it shouldn't really surprise him with all the love he feels for her. She chuckles at him, about to tease him about it when he flips her on her back and dives down on her.

She nearly screams in shock and pleasure as his tongue does sinful things to her clit. He enjoys her taste, mixed with his own. She grabs his hair when he mercilessly nips at her inner thigh, allowing his other hand to gently need her clit. His free one holds her leg there in just the way she likes.

"Thor," Sif moans, edging him on. "Please…"

"Of course, my love," Thor whispers, hopefully too quiet for her to hear. His tongue dives into her folds before she can register what happened, and she bucks against him as his other hand still plays with her clit. It doesn't take long for his worshiping to pull her over the edge.

He plants light pecks on her cheeks and lips as she keeps muttering his name. Chocolate eyes meet blue. "Again?"

"You would take me every chance I gave you, wouldn't you?" Sif asks, half aware of what she is saying.

"Of course," Thor smiles at her.

"Then here's another chance," Sif mutters. He kisses her hard, nearly distracting her from plowing into her. As his cock passes her g-spot, she bucks against him. One of her hands finds his hair, the other finds his free hand. They rock against each other, seeking all the pleasure they can take.

Her climaxing brings him over the edge again.

* * *

end

* * *

It's not until much later, after they moved to his room and went a few more rounds, does Sif sit there, staring at her stained, torn dress. She looks over at Thor, who is sleeping peacefully, naked, above his sheets. She brushes some blonde hair out of his face.

"Now they'll all accuse me of seducing you," Sif says, pain etched into her voice. She sneaks out, much to his disappointment the next day.

The next day, Thor can't find her anywhere. Only after dinner does he learn from Volstagg that Sif took Frandal and Hogun hunting in order to 'get away'. Thor can't help but feel guilty.

* * *

"You don't in the least want to talk about it?" Frandall asks as he follows Sif through the underbrush. Hogun is behind him.

"It's not like you know about it," Sif grumbles.

"Is it matters of the heart?" Frandall asks. "I know about matters of the heart."

"What would a whore like you know?" Sif scoffs, knowing full well what his answer is.

"Would it surprise you that the only person who calls me that are the people I haven't slept with?" Frandall asks, throwing her for a loop. She looks at him bewildered, and Hogun laughs at her face.

"What do you know, Hogun?" Sif scoffs.

"Nothing, I only sit back and pay attention," Hogun shrugs.

"What did you mean by that, Frandall?" Sif asks.

"Everyone I take to bed I take care of. And they know that it isn't permanent, just a bit of fun," Frandall shrugs. "I know when someone wears a face of not understanding the situation. And that's what you've got."

"What do you mean?" Sif demands.

"You're running from Thor," Hogun states.

"I did not invite the two of you on a hunt so you could gang up on me like this!" Sif scoffs and starts them walking again. "We're here to investigate some of the local's complaints. Apparently there's a crow who chases the women from the washing grounds. And it likes shiny things."

"Most crows do," Frandall states. "Are you sure you don't want to talk about it? Thor is our friend too. I'm sure Hogun would rather not get a broken arm again just because you two are bickering."

"We're not bickering. And that was an accident!" Sif argues.

"Yes, we all know how you don't know your own strength, especially when you are upset," Frandall rolls his eyes. "Please, Sif. We're friends. Why won't you talk with us? Do we need to go fetch one of your new lady friends? Perhaps Lady Nanna?"

"Hell no," Sif shakes her head.

"Alright, never trying to seduce Lady Nanna," Frandall notes. "What about Kyra?"

"No," Sif responds.

"Lady Vor?" Frandall asks. Sif takes a moment.

"There is nothing to discuss Frandall. I simply need time to process things," Sif says.

"In the meantime, mind telling me what Lady Nanna said? You hardly have that harsh reaction, unless they start it," Frandall says.

"She attributed my defense of warriors to being on my period," Sif rolls her eyes.

"Definitely never attempting to seduce such a lowly girl," Frandall says and Hogun laughs.

"Plus she accused me of sleeping with Thor to get my shield," Sif sighs.

"But you hardly saw him at the time!" Frandall scoffs. "I mean, you were squiring in Vanaheim. If anyone should accuse you of sleeping with anyone it should be with Hogun. Why else would he leave his home, unless to follow you here?"

Sif and Hogun stop and look at him like he is crazy.

"One day I will figure out if you two did it or not," Frandall playfully warns.

"Does everything have to revolve around sex with you?" Sif asks.

"Sexy things," Frandall shrugs. They continue walking. "I'm just trying to be a good friend Sif. And when I say good friend I'm a guy and I see you as one of the guys though you're the most gorgeous woman I have ever met—"

"How many times have you used that line?" Sif teases.

"And I'm just suggesting maybe a lady friend would be helpful," Frandall ignores the jest. "You're a better warrior than I, but you're still a woman with lady ideas. You're probably right, when it comes to you and Thor. I'm a guy. I know the guys side of things, regardless of how many nights I've spent staring up at the stars, just talking with lovers. That's why I suggested a female friend. Vor sounds like she's slipped past your armor to be a friend. If you won't talk to me, why not talk to her?"

"Because," Sif says, spinning around to talk to him as she walks backwards. "You're just imagining things. There isn't any issues between me and Thor—ah!" Sif squeaks as she falls into something. Luckily Frandall and Hogun are quick and each grab an arm before she falls too far.

"This is a hunter's trap," Hogun examines it as they pull her up. "Not legal in this part of the woods."

"Mark it on the map, we need to keep going," Sif says, brushing herself off. "And thanks. Both of you."

"Anything for a friend," Frandall offers as Hogun marks it on the map in his notebook. "I'd suggest going back to the village and grabbing the hunter to tell us where the rest of his traps are. Like I said, I'd rather not get a broken arm out here."

"Fine," Sif rolls her eyes. "Hogun, lead the way." They look to Hogun, who is spinning his map around. "Hogun?"

"Please tell me you're practicing some sort of vanaheim dance," Frandall's heart drops. "Not that we're lost."

"How can we be lost, we never left the path," Sif scoffs.

"Hush," Hogun says and the other's quiet. It takes them a moment to realize it's not because they were talking, but because he is listening.

_Children laughing._

They're too far into the woods for anyone besides hunters to be out here. Why would there be children?

Hogun puts his finger over his mouth, telling the others to be quite after he puts his book away. He motions for them to follow quietly. He stalks through the underbrush, trying to stay low. The others follow close.

The brush gets so thick, he has to crawl on his stomach. At the edge of a clearing he stops, and the others crawl up beside him.

"Would you look at that," Frandall mutters on Hogun's left.

The clearing in front of them is large—larger than any in the Hogun's book shows—and filled with direwolves and hellhounds. From the look of it, there is three packs—one domesticated and two wild. In the center are large, jagged rocks. Two kids are playing on them as the wolves laze about around them.

The girl is still a child, with her muddy brown hair in thick ringlets. Her light eyes give away something wrong, but the others are too far away to tell. Her servant's outfit is of the capital, giving away that she is far from her master.

The boy is not quite old enough to call an adult, though he will be soon. He has shaggy brown hair and a simple servant's outfit on. His eyes are golden, just like direwolves are famous for. The three adults get the feeling something is wrong, but they can't tell what.

That is, until the girl talks with a voice far older than her childish body calls to the boy.

"Brother! Brother! Do it again!" she nearly sings.

The boy howls in response and the direwolves respond in barks and howls. They boy jumps off the rock head and arms first, transforming into a direwolf on the way down. He runs around the meadow a few times, with some of the young of the pack following.

One of the young pups picks up on the Asgardian's scent and stop. She sniffs around and finds them before they can run. She howls and instantly all of the adults surround them, growling threateningly.

"Wait!" the girls runs over. She stands between the wolves and the Asgardians. The boy turns back into a boy, keeping his wolf ears, tail, and whispers. "You should probably stand up."

"Right," Frandall gets up quickly. Sif looks at him like he betrayed her, but gets up with Hogun's help. "We were just walking down the path over there, and heard laughing. We just wanted to make sure kids weren't lost. I suppose you aren't. You're just wild children."

"Please don't tell anyone about us," the girl pleads, her voice throwing them off.

"Don't worry, we won't," Frandall placates.

"Are you the ones the hunter made those illegal traps for?" Hogun asks.

"Probably," the boy whines. "It's not our fault. They've started hunting in the direwolves territory, so the wolves are just picking a lamb or goat for every moose the Asgardians take. It's not even that fair of a trade."

"But you _are_ stealing their stuff," Frandall points out, realizing that they still haven't found their crow.

"They're stealing the pack's stuff first! The deer are under our protection, the deer know we will treat them right in life and death! The people-hunters are mean about it! They can't be bothered to send the spirits back to the Norns!" the boy exclaims, surprising them. Suddenly the boy starts scratching at his wolf ear and sits down.

"My brother can be a little bit dramatic," the girl says apologetically. "But he is right."

"Who are you kids?" Frandall asks. The wolves disperse.

"He's the wolf, Fenrir," the girl says. "And I'm the Goddess Hela."

"Oh, that's nice. You're named after the caretaker of the dead. You're parent's must have a morbid sense of humor. I'm Frandall the dashing, one of the Warriors Three," Frandall offers his hand, letting camaraderie cover any hesitation in his voice.

"I never said that," Hela says. Cold slides down their spines. They suddenly notice the mist, one they _know_ is magical.

"Great, so wild direwolves are going to kill me?" Frandall asks, looking around in trepidation.

"You can't be the caretaker of the dead. She only appears to the dead or dying," Sif argues, hand on sword hilt.

"Oh, I suppose it has been a while since someone stumbled upon me in daylight," Hela shrugs. "No, seeing me is not a bad omen. You people just don't see me as often since the Late King Bor banished me from court."

"Well, then, if I'm not dying, let's just say good day and part ways, shall we?" Frandall says, fear etching his voice.

"You were sent here to get the baubles from a raven, weren't you?" Hela asks. A wolf brings over a bag, and Hogun accepts it. "Here you go."

"But how?" Sif asks.

"It was a thief, not a raven," Hela shrugs. "Lady Avery gave me the task of gathering the bobbles to give to the brave warriors who would come looking for them."

"Since when do you run errands for anyone?" Sif asks.

"I may be the caretaker of the dead, but I do not like it when people die. Especially unnecessarily," Hela explains.

"We weren't going to kill the thief," Frandall defends.

"Why do you keep thinking I'm talking about things I'm not?" Hela sighs. "There is a rebellion brewing, and I do not wish for it to happen. I can't do much about it because I'm not permitted in Asgard in my full splendor. But I have found a way around it, so I have taken the form you see. You feel the power in my voice, you know who I am. Please convince your friend to reverse the ruling."

"You want Thor to reverse what ruling?" Sif asks.

"Have him restore my seat on the council, that is all I ask for," Hela curtseys. "For now, I must bid you goodbye. If all goes well, the next time we meet, you won't be dead." With that, she jumps up on a wolf. The majestic creature howls and runs off, with the rest of the pack following close behind.

"That was odd," Frandall grabs his heart and slumps back against a tree. "What do we do now?"

"We tell Thor," Hogun says solemnly.

* * *

And that is why, hours later, Thor and Loki are sitting in a room, listening to Frandall, Sif, and Hogun tell the story of how they found the evidence. Volstagg is also sitting in a chair, eating.

"Lady Avery? Hela didn't expand on who that is?" Loki asks.

"No," Sif looks at him confused.

"Leave it up to you, brother, to pick out some insignificant piece," Thor says, trying to bring some lightheartedness to the grim mood.

"I know you are not lying—at least you believe you're not lying," Loki ignores his brother. "What is the point of letting Hela back into court? What is her game?"

"Not everyone plays games," Volstagg waves a chicken leg at Loki.

"This is the caretaker of the dead we're talking about, not some common noble," Loki argues. "Of course let's take this privately to our father."

A messenger knocks on their door.

"Come in!" Thor allows. The servant bows.

"Heimdall summons you," the servant says and then leaves.

"We're doomed," Volstagg says.

"Oh hush," Loki is the first to get up. They make it to the bifrost to find Odin already there.

"You have an important message for the All Father," Heimdall's deep voice reverberates throughout the 's eyes flash to Heimdall. He wonders how much that man knows—of the Mad Hatter, of the rebellion, of the truth. Heimdall is one of the Gods of Truth, if simply because he can see virtually anything.

"Yes," Sif steps forward. "I was leading Frandall and Hogun through the southern forest, because we were asked by the locals to recover their stolen items. We found illegal hunting traps—one I nearly fell in. They were large enough to capture direwolves, and we discovered why.

"In a field not too far away, we discovered a girl and a boy. Fenrir and Hela. As in the Goddess Hela, caretaker of the dead and her bodyguard. She presented us with a bag of the stolen items and asked us to implore you to reinstate Hela's seat in the council," Sif recalls.

"And how long ago was this? And were exactly?" Odin asks, sounding like a king.

"Roughly three and a half hours ago, just past the Southern Settlement in the King's Forest," Sif responds.

"Heimdall," Odin looks at the man. Heimdall nods. Much to the other's surprise, Heimdall puts the sword into the key, and turns on the bifrost. It powers on, but not strong enough to send anyone anywhere.

He steps to the side and Odin steps up. He unsheathes his sword and stabs the ground next to the key. Lights dance across the floor, pointing to the window. It lights up, before images flash across it.

It stops and shows the clearing, with Hela, Fenrir, Hogun, Sif, and Frandall in it. They watch as the scene plays out exactly as it happens.

"So you speak the truth," Odin says, sounding more tired than ever.

"If a rebellion is brewing, we must go smash it. That is what we have always done," Thor announces, and looks to his friends.

"No," Odin says.

"But father!" Thor nearly gapes at him.

"This isn't a petty village arguing over rights," Odin says. "I've heard bits and pieces of this. A great deal of my people are unhappy. They wish for things to change. I never approached them because that is too forward, all they talk about is distrust. I've been grooming you and your brother to do better than whatever I have done to cause it."

"What would that be?" Loki asks.

"My father left a legacy of war, but in his last years did all he could to make peace with the realms. I undid most of that work, though in my own time realized I was wrong. The legacy I wish to leave the two of you is peace," Odin says.

"We're a warrior people and our people do not like a warrior king? I do not understand," Thor says.

"Many could have been spared, had Odin dared to care. That is what I hear from the people," Hiemdall states ominously.

"And what do these people want?" Thor asks Odin. "They are the ones rebellion in unnecessary violence."

"Who told you of this?" Loki asks.

"I did," Heimdall says. His gaze meeting Loki's tells him one thing. Heimdall knows what Loki was getting at. Odin should have gotten this information from the King's Spy Master. Don't trust him.

"And you hear and see people unhappy and call it a rebellion?" Loki asks.

"They have something that blocks my sight," Heimdall says. The room was quite before. Now it is dead silent.

"That's impossible!" Hogun states.

"Nothing blocks your vision! Loki, tell him not even you can do that," Frandall looks between Heimdall and Loki.

"How safe are we if things can be hidden from the gatekeeper?" Sif asks.

"I've seen discontent. And hidden places. With the All Father's help, we are able to see through time and space. However, the future is getting murkier. The last time this happened, a war broke out. Now, with Hela delivering a message, I am almost certain what the future holds," Heimdall explains.

"We have to go about this carefully," Loki says.

"But," Thor starts.

"That means no madness. Think about your actions and your words before you do anything," Loki scolds.

"But," Thor starts.

"Enough," Odin says. "Leave us. Tell no one."

"Yes sire," the warriors bow.

"But if you know what is going on, why not march straight there? Giving them time means they could hide stuff," Thor argues.

"Because that is not what a wise king would do. Listen to your brother," Odin warns.

"I am, but sometimes a headfirst attack is the best. Smash this rebellion before it starts!" Thor argues.

"Thor, all you'll do is kill people, not smash the idea behind the rebellion. Possibly even fuel their rage. You don't stop a rebellion by killing a person, you do it by placating their reasons. Does anyone know why this is happening?" Loki asks the room and receives silence as an answer. "I thought not. Thor, until we know why all you'll do is kill innocents."

"I understand, brother," Thor scoffs, not liking being scolded.

"Good. Until then, I suggest we proceed as planned," Loki says. "Just keep entertaining your ladies and practicing with your hammer. Any objections?"

No response.

"Then that's what we're doing," Loki says. "Are we needed any longer here?"

"No," Odin says. "Dismissed."

As Loki and the others walk out, he falls in line with Sif.

"I'm proud of you," Loki says.

"Thank you," Sif replies.


	17. 17 - The Family's: Angrbooda

warning: Loki Amora sex

* * *

Kyra takes another hit and tumbles again. Soon, Angrbooda calls for a break.

"I can keep going!" Kyra demands.

"This is your first day, you refuse to hold the staff correctly, your footing is all wrong and you've let your anger seep into your reasons—and that will get you killed," Angrbooda warns. Kyra glares at her.

"I didn't make you my teacher to be given a moral lesson, giantess. I made you my teacher so that I could take on that damned Mad Hatter myself. Stop lazying about and teach me!" Kyra demands defiantly.

"You didn't make me anything, mutt," Angrbooda glares Kyra into looking away. "You asked and I'm currently testing you. Right now, you suck. Not your skills. You've been able to pick up a modest amount from formal training—though formal training sucks too. It's your reasons that are pulling you down. You're so mad at this phantom thief you want to take up fighting? Fighting your way through the world will never get you anywhere. I haven't heard much about her, but apparently she's so good she can _sneak into the palace and **paint **__a mural on your ceiling_. Do you realize how much time and skill that takes?"

"We're not here to admire that damned creature," Kyra growls. "She's done absolutely nothing good."

"Nothing?" Angrbooda asks. "She gave you a gift."

"I refuse to believe that mural is of my future! I don't care what the Norns say. The priestesses didn't even know the damned Seers Stone was a fake until they tried using it! They wouldn't know the future if it smacked them across the face!" Kyra argues.

Kyra yelps when Angrbooda smacks her across the face.

"These are the High Priestesses! Don't you dare speak evil of them!" Angrbooda scolds. "And I wasn't talking about the mural—although that's a fucking good gift too! This anger you have. It's prompted you to learn how to fight more."

"What's the importance of that, oh great giant sage," Kyra mocks.

"I should slap you again," Angrbooda stares her down.

"Sorry," Kyra mutters.

"You moved in to the palace because of assassins," Angrbooda states solemnly.

"How do you know about that?!" Kyra demands.

"Servants talk, idiot. It's amazing what they'll say when they're not gawking at a giant_ess_ training their pansies of guards. Besides, anyone with half a brain can see how many guards you have on your wing, how often they're changed, and how much you pay them," Angrbooda says and gets a glare in response. "Plus I heard about the fire. That's why you really moved. Being here is more about saving your own skin instead of trying to be courted by Thor."

"I have just as much of a chance as you of being picked by my prince," Kyra says.

"I have no chance, so you just proved my point," Angrbooda laughs and receives another glare.

"I have a better chance, then. Just as good as Nanna, Vor or Sif," Kyra corrects.

"I'm not here to argue that. By all means, dream your dreams and make them come to life. But that's the thing, you have to make them come to life. As you are now, the Mad Hatter's won. She's derailed your dream and won and all she did was paint a picture. But she's also given you the gift of anger, of passion. You have to learn how to take that and use it to your advantage. I'm not going to teach you how to fight, or even self-defense. I'm going to teach you that," Angrbooda says.

"Thank you," Kyra finally settles. Angrbooda goes on testing her.

* * *

"How did I let you talk me into this?" Loki asks, readjusting his arm guard.

"Lady Angrbooda wanted to go hunting for the parent talk, why shouldn't we?" Thor says as they walk through the forest. Angrbooda is in the lead, Odin is close behind. Frigga is between her sons and her husband, wearing her old hunting clothes.

"And you were so happy to let her because you love hunting. We have more pressing matters," Loki warns.

"That's what I've got you for," Thor shrugs.

"I can't do anything out here," Loki complains.

"That's the point! You spend too much time holed up with your books, you never see the sun!" Thor jests.

"You drag me out often enough," Loki grumbles.

"Apparently not, or else your pale skin would be as tan as mine," Thor teases. Loki just rolls his eyes. He's used to people physically comparing the two princes. Thor is the golden child, kissed by the sun. He is strength personified, with the skill of a thousand warriors. Loki, in contrast, is dark as the night, with moon kissed skin. He may not have Thor's strength, but he has the wits and magic to counter anyone.

They follow the tracts of a beast—most likely an elk—for the better part of an afternoon. Loki wishes he has Sleipnir to ride through the forest. Loki allowed Reina and Eric to train the foal, and he has become a powerful creature. Well, as powerful as an eight legged foal can be. Loki helped out a bit, and is proud that Sleipnir has progressed from walking without tripping to being able to jump on top of the stables—getting him down was the hard part. The poor foal is scared of heights. Eric promises that one day Sleipnir will make a powerful warhorse.

"Aiya!" Angrbooda shouts and jumps. There's a crash in the woods and people run over. They find her sitting on an elk twice her size, the last words to a prayer on her lips. "Got him."

"Wonderful catch," Frigga praises. They carry the elk back to the castle to have it cleaned and prepared for the dinner feast.

On the way back, Thor stands in for Angrbooda's parents and talks about her dowry and potential as Loki's wife are discussed. After dinner, Angrbooda and Loki are allowed to spend time together.

"We don't have to if you don't want," Loki says as they walk back towards Amora's wing, where Angrbooda is staying.

"Do what you want, I'm visiting friends. You're welcome to come along," Angrbooda shrugs.

"Friends?" Loki asks.

"Amora invited over Elaina and Sygin," Angrbooda explains. "I had half the kill brought over for them."

"Thoughtful," Loki says. He figures he might as well see his women again.

"Yeah, anything to get that girl out of her home," Angrbooda says.

"Has something happened?" Loki asks, not truly interested.

"Her father abuses her and her mother, so we're training Elaina on how to fight. I've started training Kyra too, because you missed the Mad Hatter painting a picture on her ceiling. Elaina's a good student. I guess she's right, the biggest difference between fighting and dancing is intent," Angrbooda says, much to Loki's shock. Then he laughs.

"Why did I expect anything else from you?" Loki asks. "Of course you'd try to rescue victims here. What else could I expect you to do? Are you even taking my offer seriously?"

"Not really," Angrbooda shrugs, not surprising Loki this time. "I came for Amora. We both know I can't be your princess. Too much politics in the way. I'm a mountain girl, through and through. You need someone like Sigyn at your side."

"What about Amora?" Loki genuinely asks.

"Does it look like she wants to be your princess?" Angrbooda asks.

"No," Loki responds quietly.

"Didn't think so," Angrbooda says. "Look, you included Sigyn because you knew she is your best bet. The rest of this is just a façade. I take it I'm more honest about it than Amora?"

"Yeah," Loki nods. After a moment he looks up at her oddly. "What about Elaina?"

"You tell me," Angrbooda says. When he doesn't respond, she expounds on it. "You picked her randomly. No one knows why. I just chalked it up to you and your normal game playing—

"Speaking of your normal game playing, you haven't messed with her. I'm surprised. She's not that good of liar. She would have told us during sparring practice if you were messing with her. Were you trying to save her? To put her where I could help her? Amora seems to think you don't care about those kinds of things.

"What's your play, Loki?" Angrbooda asks.

Loki's silence surprises her. She waits for him, seeing the gears turning in his mind.

"I did add her to play with her," Loki slowly admits. "She was fun, when I first met her. But I've been so distracted with the Mad Hatter, I haven't really messed around. Plus, Thor made me promise not to."

"Wait. What?" Angrbooda stops in shock. "You're actually not messing with someone just because your brother made you promise not to? Who are you and what did you do with Loki?"

"Angrbooda, it's not that rare," Loki rolls his eyes.

"Oh yeah? Then when is the last plaything you picked up and then decided not to after things got started like this?" Angrbooda asks. His silence is her answer. "C'mon. Let's go. I want to see how you act around her."

"What do you mean?" Loki follows her.

"What made you think she was fun?" Angrbooda asks.

"She called me out on my set up," Loki shrugs. "She knew the odds were stacked against her, even though I was flirting with her as if considering her. She dared me not to pick her."

"Are you sure you were talking to our Elaina?" Angrbooda asks, the concern in her voice worrying Loki. "To flat out play you like that? Elaina's not dumb, but she's not that manipulative either. Hell, I would say she's not even that brave."

"What's your point?" Loki asks.

"Loki, I'm just concerned for her," Angrbooda says. "She obviously showed you her true face, the one under the mask—"

"Mask?" Loki asks, suspicious.

"Yeah, victims of domestic violence tend to put up a mask, to protect themselves from the pain. Remember, Amora used to have one. I don't know how, but when you first met Elaina you got under it. I guess she genuinely likes you," Angrbooda explains, then gives Loki a look. "You're definitely not allowed to mess with her now. Be genuine with her."

"When am I not?" Loki teases, trying to ignore how everyone expects him to manipulate people. As fun as it is, he doesn't like being called out on it. Especially in a bad light. Not for the first time does he regret adding Elaina to his list.

"A smaller list would be 'when are you'," Angrbooda laughs. The finally make it to Amora's wing and find Lydia has grown to the size of the couch. "Amora! What did you do?!"

"Oh, we've had so much fun!" squeaks the doll that flies over to them. It takes a moment for Angrbooda and Loki to realize it's Amora, the size of Tinkerbelle. "Elaina and Sygin and I decided to work on more potions, and look what we did! We made a size changing one!"

"Where are the other two?" Angrbooda looks around.

"Um…" Amora hesitates.

"Amora," Angrbooda scolds. Amora turns to Loki and points to the other room.

"We might need your help," Amora says, and then leads them in. "I wanted fairy wings to go with my new size, but we ran into a snag."

They enter the other room to find Sigyn siting on a stool, the top of her dress pulled down. To cover herself, she's clutching a pillow to her chest. Sprouting from her back are white butterfly wings, a thick black line decorating them.

Elaina has four books spread out on the counter, with various ingredients dotting the girls and the table.

"Try the roots," Sigyn offers.

"We tried them already," Elaina says. "You just want them because they taste good."

"Can you blame me?" Sigyn asks. "They're delicious!"

"How did this happen?" Loki asks. The girls squeak and Sigyn attempts to use the wings to cover herself.

"Um… well… do you understand the basics of how the stage props I make work? I draw something, then mix it in a mixture, and then soak a ribbon in it and that changes the wearers outfit," Elaina explains.

"Yes," Loki says, knowing where this is going.

"We thought that would help change body parts. So we stuck a fur on Sigyn and she swallowed a mixture and… tada," Elaina struggles with how to explain it.

"How long have you been like this, Sigyn?" Loki asks.

"Uh, maybe three quarters of an hour?" Sigyn says innocently.

"May I take a look?" Loki asks.

"Sure," Sigyn moves the wings back out.

"How much control do you have over them?" Loki asks, standing behind her and examining how they are connected to her back.

"Enough to smack you where you stand," Elaina says. "I know, she's did it to me."

"If you pull too hard, it hurts!" Sigyn defends. "Loki's gentler than you." Amora snickers.

"Are you in pain?" Loki asks, ignoring the bickering.

"Only if you pull on them," Sigyn says. "I'm a healer, Loki. I know my body hasn't been altered, I know the biology. It's almost as if the fir became the wings, and I somehow have control."

"Except it's painful to tear them off," Loki says.

"It bled a little when we tried that," Sigyn points out.

"Do you mind if I magically look at them?" Loki asks.

"Please do," Sigyn asks, blushing from the shame of being caught. To give them privacy, Elaina offers Amora the reversing potion and Angrbooda drags them out.

"I'm going to have to put you in a trance," Loki says as he puts a hand on each wing. She nods. After the spell, she leans forward, unconscious. At first, they wince, then they relax. Green strands of light swirl out from his hands. They dance across the wings, melting into every line, swirling around every edge until they return to his hands. That magic tells him that the wings are biological in nature, and firmly attached to Sigyn's back. They react as if made of muscle, though there is not any in them. Her natural magic is controlling them.

Normally this would be difficult. Separating random body parts that are attached to the person's magic, would require going to the head healer—or even to Frigga. But Loki would rather not bother them over this. He suspects Soul Spells will work.

He's just worried about Bravossi's warning with Sleipnir. He needs to put up barriers and doesn't know how to.

"I can steal her wings," the whisper comes from right behind him. Loki doesn't move. He can feel the smirk in her voice.

"Why would you?" Loki asks, knowing it's the Mad Hatter. He notes she is slightly taller than he remembers, as she presses against his back and slides naked arms around his torso. The runes on her wrists are gold, just like he remembers. They look more familiar than that, though. She also has a note in her hand, she slips into his pocket.

"You'll accidentally bind to her, if you try to," the Mad Hatter whispers. When he hesitates, she continues. "Bravossi told me."

"I knew he was spying on me," Loki grumbles.

"Protecting, not spying," the Mad Hatter whispers right next to his ear. She's not wearing her mask. It takes everything in Loki's self-control not to turn around. He doesn't because that would wake Sigyn up, and he's not sure he wants to have a conversation about the Mad Hatter with her. "You never told him not to say anything. I just asked him about his day, he told me about Sleipnir."

"Apparently he was your rescue," Loki says.

"And now you're his mother," the Mad Hatter says. "You complete tests given to you, but you hardly do them as expected, now, don't you?"

"You were testing me?" Loki asks.

"You're a prodigy with magic," the Mad Hatter nuzzles his neck. It takes this long for Loki to realize she is using the same trick he uses on women—seduction. "Bravossi has just started teaching you the basics of Soul Spells, but there is so much more. You might like to learn about it. Someday."

"That still doesn't answer why you would help with this," Loki whispers.

"Sigyn isn't meant to be magically bound to you," the Mad Hatter shrugs. "The way you bind, you turn people into children. You're considering her for your wife, not child. I just want to keep that straight. Plus, this gives me a chance to help you learn barriers. So you won't need someone else to."

"Why do you care? You're just a thief," Loki hisses, his ego hurt.

"Why do you care? You're just a prince," she turns his words on him, in a tone that dares him to defy her.

"Mad Hatter, how do I help her?" Loki asks sincerely. He figures the best way to play her is to do as she said: complete what she wants but in an unexpected way. Even he doesn't even expect himself just to simply ask.

"There's a good boy," the Mad Hatter coos. "Give me your arms." He puts his hands in hers. "Close your eyes." He obeys, hesitantly.

Darkness for a moment, before the world lights up. He gasps as white lines in front of him form Sigyn's body. He doesn't have to physically turn, he just thinks and he feels like he's standing in other parts of the palace. He jumps from the kitchens to Thor's room—which he runs out of because Thor is with a harlot—to Frigga writing a letter to the stables where Sleipnir whinnies at him. The voices are all meshed together, as if he can hear into their souls. He can feel everything, but can't process any of it. He is vaguely aware of Sigyn's anxiety in front of him. But he is nearly blinded by the desire behind him.

"Back to reality," the Mad Hatter whispers, and he starts to feel her kissing his neck. He wouldn't admit it, but that helps ground him, helps remind him of himself.

"Focus on Sigyn," the Mad Hatter moves one of his hands across a wing. In this new vision, the wings are lined in violet. Her body is lined in white. Where they attach looks like tangled string. He reaches for it.

"No," the Mad Hatter coos. "Remember who you are first. And remember who she is."

It takes a few moments for him to establish himself, and he struggles more with figuring out who she is. It takes some help from the Mad Hatter—if he wasn't so distracted, he would wonder how the Mad Hatter knows Sigyn so well.

"Now imagine bindings on you, all around you," the Mad Hatter coos. At first Loki thinks about chains on his wrists—one of his favorite sex toys.

"Not like that," the Mad Hatter scolds.

"How?" Loki asks.

"I'll put small ones on you. It is up to you to expand them," the Mad Hatter explains. At first, there is nothing. Then he feels parts of his soul stiffen. The feeling is like ice, spreading across him. After a moment, it stops and he realizes he needs to continue it. So he does, he spreads the ice across his soul until he feels nothing but the barriers.

"Good. Now try to untie her," the Mad Hatter's voice is faint. He can still feel her holding him, but she feels distant.

Loki reaches out to the knot in Sigyn's soul and unties it.

"Thank you," Loki whispers, opening his eyes, but he knows the Mad Hatter is gone. He's not sure when she left. He takes the fur form Sigyn's back and folds it, placing it on the table. Then he wakes up Sigyn.

"Ah! Thank you so much Loki!" Sigyn hugs him, then realizes what she did and quickly lets go. "I'm sorry. That was bold. Thank you your grace."

"You're welcome," Loki says. Spur of the moment, Loki decides to hug her and she nearly melts into him.  
Sigyn proudly shows the others his work and they are happy. They agree never to try the change again—Loki knows Amora will try it once everyone leaves and he may have to help her out.

* * *

And so Loki is back that night, staring down a pixie.

"Just because you can, doesn't mean you should," Loki scolds the pixie floating in his face, named Amora.

"Oh, come on! You know you want to! Take one, take one! You'll enjoy it!" Amora squeaks.

"I would rather not turn into a pixie just to fuck you," Loki sighs.

"But the wings are awesome!" Amora says.

"And I'm going to have to untie them," Loki says.

"You already know how," Amora shrugs.

"Not on myself," Loki shakes his head.

"Fine…" Amora gives in. "I thought it would be fun. Can you fix me like this or do I have to be big again?"

"I'd rather you be big again," Loki says. Amora flies over to the table and eats a few things, before becoming normal sized. She sits there, wearing a smirk and a short dress.

"Well? Can I at least feel how sex feels with these?" Amora asks.

"No," Loki says.

"Fine," Amora sighs. "What do I need to do?"

"Turn around," Loki says. "I need to put you in a trance."

"That's no fun," Amora whines, but obeys. He puts her in a trance and keeps his hands on her back.

He takes a deep breath and closes his eyes. He steps into his view of himself, and then builds one of Amora. Slowly, the world opens up to him. He can feel Angrbooda in her roomssleeping. Across the way Thor is with another harlot—he must have messed up big with Sif. To his surprise, the Mad Hatter is sneaking around the Spy Master's wing.

He takes note of that and moves on. He looks at Amora's soul in front of him. It's yellow, with bits of silver in it. He feels her boredom and her slightly worry. It takes him a moment to realize what is missing. He feels no desire from her.

Not wanting to chase that though, he builds up his barriers again. It's far quicker this time. Once completed, he goes about the task he started. He unties the knots between her soul and the fake wings—a mix of violet and yellow this time.

Eventually everything is back to normal. He spends one last, impulsive moment searching for her desire. He finds it, small and waiting. Nowhere near what he felt from the Mad Hatter. He chalks it up to them not being in the mood. After all, he came here because Amora needed help, not for sex.

He wakes her up, and much to his surprise she kisses him passionately.

* * *

sex

* * *

"I should really thank you for that," Amora says seductively. If he didn't just look at her soul, hepter would believe her. She stops when she doesn't get much of a reaction. "What's wrong?"

"That just takes a bit out of me," Loki lies. "Tell me how much you want me."

"Oh gods Loki, I want you so much," Amora purrs. "I want you inside me. I've been thinking about it since the last time we fucked—what, just a few days ago was it? Feels like forever. I've missed your big hard cock inside me. I want to feel you, to know I'm yours."

"You're mine," Loki growls, diving into her mouth. She kisses him back just as fiercely, hands sliding into his hair as he steps right up to her. His hands go to her hip, to balance her on the table's edge.

"Yours," Amora pants. She pulls his hair, yanking a groan out of him. He attacks her neck, hands scrambling for the edge of her clothes. He nearly rips them off, making Amora laugh.

"Aw, you're certainly impatient," Amora teases. She helps him take his shirt off as he knocks off his pants. He slides between her legs, nipping at her inner thigh. She moans.

He kisses over to her clit, and she puts one hand behind her for support, the other sliding into his hair. He licks her clit and sets a pace. Then misses one on purpose, and she whines, pulling at his hair. He does that again and she makes a beautiful noise.

After a few more times, he decides to be nice and keeps going. As he does this, he attempt to multi task. What he felt earlier bothers him. He thought she was aroused and desired him, but her soul showed differently. Now her body is completely aroused, so he looks at her soul again.

Nothing. There is no desire in it. He is absolutely sure he saw desire from the Mad Hatter. All he is getting from Amora is happiness—far from the sexual desire he was expecting. He knows she is completely aroused, only being in her could make her more.

Then she climaxes. Her soul flashes and a warmth spreads through it, but no desire.

He opens his eyes and smiles up at her. She smiles at him, longing and desire etched on her face. So why isn't it in her soul?

"Your turn," Amora flirts and knocks him on his back, returning the favor. She is so good with her mouth she could steal the title 'silver tongue' from him. It helps him forget his worry for a moment.

And that moment ends after he climaxes. She lies next to him, holding him close.

"That was fun," Amora says. "Would have been funner smaller and with wings."

"Maybe next time," Loki says. She gives him an odd look, but then crawls on top of him.

"Wanna go again?" Amora asks.

* * *

end - scene jump

* * *

Loki sits at his desk, pouring over the scrolls he found in the library.

"Put it out," he angrily tells Bravossi. No response, and the light just keeps getting brighter. He glares at Bravossi, to find out the sun is rising. He runs a hand through his unkept hair, stressed and worried about what he saw.

"Bravossi!" Loki snaps. Bravossi falls off his bed in the other room and rushes in.

"Yes, your grace?" Bravossi punctuates with a yawn.

"The Mad Hatter stopped by earlier and helped me set up barriers," Loki states. Bravossi looks surprised. "I need to know the answer to something, but you're not allowed to ask questions. Understood?"

"Yes, your grace," Bravossi stands up straighter

"Would I be able to sense a person's desire in that state?" Loki asks.

"Depends on the type of desire, but yes," Bravossi says.

"Define that," Loki orders.

"There's friendly desire, and then romantic desire, and then honest desire. That last one is the strongest. If a person wants to be your friend, or is, you'll be able to feel it. It's hard to explain the feelings. You just kind of know. Same with the romantic one. Except people tend to also show it in their bodies. Honest desire is strong, and is simply felt as desire," Bravossi explains.

"Give me examples, I'm going to try," Loki orders.

"Now?" Bravossi asks. Loki glares at him. "Give me a second. Ok, friendly." Bravossi sighs. Loki steps into the image of himself, and looks at Bravossi. He feels warm and happy, about what Amora felt like.

"Romantic," Loki orders. The feelings change. He gets a boner simply from the feeling, his body reacts to Bravossi's romantic desire for him.

"The last one," Loki orders, trying not to let the fact he was effected show.

"It's more pointed towards someone else," Bravossi explains. After a moment, things change. What he felt form the Mad Hatter earlier he feels strongly from Bravossi, directed at someone else. That is the only difference.

"What's it mean when someone is romantically, sexually attracted to you but their soul isn't?" Loki asks, worried about the answer.

"They think they are attracted to you, but they don't feel it in their heart," Bravossi says.

"Damn," Loki swears.


	18. 18 - The Family's: Vor Rashmore

Thanks for reading/follwoing/reviewing!

* * *

"Welcome Lord Rashmore," Frigga hugs the graying man, even though Odin huffs about it. Lord Rashmore returns the hug.

"It's been years since I've seen you. Thank you for stepping in for my late wife, my queen," Rashmore says graciously. Vor curtseys.

"Thank you, your grace. It is an honor," Vor says.

"Oh, my, how you have grown," Frigga hugs her. "I am so proud of you."

"Thank you, your grace," Vor repeats, then motions to her servants. They walk up, carrying a small box between them. Vor removes the lid and Frigga gasps. Odin and Thor must take a look at this, and discover clear shards radiating a constantly changing light. "I would like to offer this gift in return. It is for your family to share."

"What is it?" Thor asks.

"Pure light gems," Frigga says reverently. She looks over at Rashmore. "How did you come across these?"

"Remember my younger sister?" Rashmore asks and Frigga nods. "Well, she married a miner and took over half the operations. She discovered these in Widow's Well. This is only a small portion of what she found."

"I'm afraid I'm not familiar with them," Odin says. "What do they do and how much are they worth?"

"They're pure magical energy, mined from lands that historically would have had large amounts of magic. Remember the child's tale of the Black Isles? If it existed, these would be found there. There are other places in Vanaheim that have these, but little has been found and much of what has been found has been used. This box is worth… half a million gold pieces," Frigga finally gets to the answer Odin wants.

Odin smiles, happy to receive such an expensive gift. Even if it is from his wife's best friend (and ex-lover).

Thor, on the other hand, bites his lip, worried. It doesn't matter what Vor's dowry is, a gift like this politically outweighs all the gold in the nine realms. Not only because of its gold value, nor its rarity, but because of what it does. Pure magical energy has been used across the nine realms to enhance magic spells and items. Politically, it would outweigh his friendship with Sif and how great of a warrior she is.

Dinner begins, and Frigga and Rashmore talk about their childhood adventures. Thor pushes aside his worry to beam at his mother. He always knew Vanaheim had a different, looser culture, but to hear about first hand experiences like this is thrilling. They have a festival nearly every month, with lots of dancing and music and the like. More often than not, according to how she tells it, Frigga got in the most trouble, and Rashmore would try to take the blame but she was a good little princess and took it.

* * *

Later, Thor and Vor find themselves standing on a balcony, overlooking the glowing city of Asgard. Vor sits on the thick stone railing, and Thor leans on it as they look out.

"It's brilliant," Vor says. "I feel like I could stay here all night and just watch the planet continue to move."

"Yes. I find this sight comforting myself," Thor says, trying his best not to let his feelings for Sif get in his way of learning about Vor. He has to remind himself this is the last family meeting before the ball in a few weeks where the princes' choices will be officially announced and lots of formality happens.

"You're thinking loudly," Vor says. Thor looks at her, confused.

"I apologize if I was talking, I was only thinking about the future," Thor tries to cover up.

"You weren't. You're just standing there, staring at the city. You feel distant," Vor explains.

"I apologize, my lady, I should be more focused on you," Thor says.

"Nonsense," Vor shakes her head. "Mind telling me what's on your mind?"

"You would find it insulting—I mean you wouldn't find it very interesting," Thor stumbles. Not for the first time does he wish he was Loki, a master of his words.

"Now I'm interested," Vor teases.

"My lady…" Thor hesitates. "I'm just… Seeing my mother interact with your father, it made me feel ill at ease."

"Ah, you don't want your relationship to turn into what they have," Vor says.

"You are wise beyond your years, my lady," Thor says.

"Does she know about the harlots?" Vor asks.

"What?" Thor asks in shock.

"Does lady Sif know about the harlots you summon—many who look like her—because you are conflicted about your future with her?" Vor rephrases.

"How do you know about that?" Thor asks, offended.

"Servants talk, your grace," Vor says.

"I'm surprised you listen to them," Thor says.

"If you cannot befriend those under you, you miss the true meaning of ruling," Vor shrugs.

"Again, you are wise," Thor nods.

"You keep saying that. To be honest, I'm just pointing out what's obvious to me," Vor admits shyly. Thor starts to look at her in a new light.

"Is my predicament that obvious?" Thor asks.

"To me," Vor looks out over the city again. "Would you like me to tell you what I see?"

"Please," Thor says, misunderstanding her meaning. He's heard about Vor's great wisdom, and how she seems to be able to tell the future.

"You don't want to end up like my father and your mother," Vor states. "They are childhood best friends. They've known each other practically their entire lives. He was one of the wards to the previous King of Vanaheim. They're the best of friends. He loves her. She loves him. He was planning on asking her to marry—in fact when your father came at the head of the war, and took our princess, my father and your mother were unofficially courting.

"You may not be facing a war, but you're afraid of politics taking Lady Sif away. She doesn't want to ruin her prince's reputation. From what I've seen, Sif loves you the same way my father loves your mother. But guess what?"

"What?" Thor asks.

"They're there, just waiting for the other to ask," Vor says. "You see, they love the other so much, they're willing to step back and let what's best for their love happen. And what's best is up to their love. Your mother would rather stay with this family she's created. She cares for my father, but they are just friends.

"It's up to you to decide what's best for you. There is nothing wrong having a warrior queen. Honestly, she's more level headed than you and would make a great ambassador-warrior-queen. Sif is a good choice for you to pick, if you want to go down that path," Vor says.

"But is she a good choice for the kingdom? A part of me believes that you, or Kyra, or Lady Nanna are better," Thor says. Vor laughs. "What?"

"Nanna is not a good choice," Vor states. "She'd make a frivolous queen, encourage your bad habits, and probably throw the realm into debt trying to save it—we don't need saving yet. She'd be an _okay_ queen, but you'd never grow to love her. She's too manipulative and snotty for you to."

"Thank you for that information. What about Kyra?" Thor asks.

"She's a business woman," Vor shrugs. "She'll make the realm the most profitable it has ever been, but she'll always run it like a business. She'd make the most changes, and the common folk would complain but in the long run they'd be happier and better off. She would make a better queen than Nanna, and you would one day grow to love her. But it would take even longer for the common folk to."

"And you?" Thor asks.

"My job here is to make sure you don't pick Nanna," Vor deadpans, and Thor laughs.

"Seriously? Would you make a good queen though?" Thor asks, unable to wipe that goofy smile off his face.

"I would make a decent queen too, but the people would take a long time to love me, especially if they learned about my father and your mother. The common folk love gossip, and centuries down the road, that would be the one thing they would remember. They would think we married just to appease our parents, and many would be suspicious of Vanaheim. It would work out, we could learn to love each other, but it would take time," Vor says.

"So my better choices are you, Kyra, and Lady Sif," Thor says. "If you were in my position, what would you do?"

"Pick Lady Sif," Vor says, and Thor looks at her questioningly. "You love her, right? If I were you I'd follow my heart."

"Alright. Then what is your advice for me? Just as Vor the Wise," Thor asks.

"None of us look that appealing, to be honest," Vor shrugs. "Kyra would the top choice for the realm, but it's nothing Lady Sif, nor I, couldn't aim for. But then again, you have to ask yourself why you are marrying. Your parent's married for peace, and that overcame all else. You don't have to do that. You can marry for love. And trust me, relationships built on love last far longer than those that don't. Lady Sif might not be the ultimate choice for the realm, but she would be the best for you."

"If you believe that, why are you still one of my women?" Thor asks.

"I told you, my job is to make sure you don't pick Nanna," Vor shrugs. Thor doesn't laugh this time. He notices how serious she is about it.

"Is there something more about her that I should know about?" Thor asks. Vor looks at him hard, debating something for a moment. It makes Thor nervous.

"I'm still close to family in Vanaheim, and they tell me about the unease of the common folk. It doesn't matter how big you get, never forget the common folk. They make or break their leaders. Something is _going on_, but we can't place our fingers on it. I think Nanna's family is connected to it somehow—my dislike for her is more than her being snotty," Vor says.

"We?" Thor asks.

"Me and my sister," Vor says.

"I was unaware you had a sister," Thor says.

"Don't worry, she's not my sister by blood. You wouldn't know about her," Vor says.

"Ah, it would be nice to have a friend that close. Someone who is family even if they aren't by blood," Thor smiles. "I was going to say I thought you had a brother though—he died didn't he?"

"Yes," Vor says. Something about that yes bothers him. Thor might not be as perceptive about lies as his brother, but he can typically tell if someone is being dishonest. "Any other questions for Vor the Wise?"

"Are you enjoying the night?" Thor asks. The conversation turn lighter, and they talk about their families and the things they enjoy. Thor is thankful Vor gave him some peace.

* * *

If only things were so peaceful at Nanna's house. Sitting at the head of the dinning table, is Lord Dager. Nanna is seated on his right and his wife is seated on his left. Beyond them sit more guests than they originally bargained for. Of course Kyra, her uncle, and Lady Sif are there. As well as Lady Angrbrooda, Lady Amora, Lady Elaia, and Lady Sigyn.

Once everyone has been settled, Kyra speaks: "Thank you all for joining tonight. Within the next five years, two of us will be sisters by marriage. I hope we can learn to love each other as sisters here. Thank you, Lord Dager, for hosting. I hope my gifts are well received."

"Of course, Lady Kyra," Lord Dager says, trying to hide his eagerness. Kyra gave enough in gifts to cover this meal three times over, on top of paying outright for the meal. "Your gifts are much appreciated. I thank you for your kindness and generosity."

"Thank you Lord Dager. But I am a simple merchant woman, not a noble lady. Kyra is all you need to call me. Miss, if you must add a title," Kyra gently corrects. "I thank you and your family for hosting. I hope your daughter and I can be great friends."

"My daughter has told me how lovely of a person you are, and how great of friends you are," Lord Dager says.

"Odd, considering this is the first time your daughter and I have met," Kyra replies.

"My apologies. She must have said how much she hopes to be friends," Lord Dager says. Nanna mutters something.

"I apologies, Lady Nanna. I didn't catch that," Kyra says.

"Nothing, Nothing," Nanna says. Her father shoots her a glare. "I love sheep pie. It's what we're having tonight. I was wondering when it would be served. It's taking the servants forever."

"Uncle, it is rare for Myratcha to be late, is it not? I wonder what happened in the kitchen for her to be having trouble cooking sheep pie. Surely the servants of the Dager family aren't inept. Would you be so kind as to check on Myratcha, uncle?" Kyra asks.

"Of course," Leo agrees and walks into the kitchen.

"Allow me to investigate as well," Nanna's mother says and follows Leo in.

"In the meanwhile, Lord Dager, I heard you would like to start trade with the my family. The trade of silks and other fine clothes," Kyra says.

"Yes," Lord Dager barely gets in.

"I would love to discuss this," Kyra says slyly.

"Of course, how-" Lord Dager inturrupts.

"I would love to talk about this, after dinner. Perhaps you could prepare some documents now. And allow girls a moment to get to know each other better while we wait for the food?" Kyra suggests.

"Oh, yes, of course," Lord Dager scurries off.

"Finally, we are alone without supervision," Kyra says, surveying the other girls. "Elaina, what does your family do?"

"I raise the direwolves, Miss Kyra," Elaina says.

"And you, Nanna, do you participate in the business at all?" Kyra asks.

"Oh, well, no..." Nanna says, stifled. She didn't realize she would be put on the spot.

"What, not going to bother asking us?" Amora jests.

"Oh, I already know what my business partners do. I love your potions. And the firs I get from Angrbooda are just fascinating. Plus the men you've trained and sent me keep off thieves and bandits. I have someone to thank at this table for protection. Perhaps I could add to that tonight. Elaina, how much does a well trained direwolf cost?" Kyra asks.

"Each one has it's own individual price according to how long I've been training it, how much training it has had by Frenrir, the type of tracking skills it has been taught, how well it takes commands from others," Elaina lists.

"Frenrir?" Lady Sif asks.

"My servant boy," Elaina says.

"Other people?" Kyra asks.

"Direwolves are very territorial and obsessive of people. They can be trained two different ways. One is to protect an individual person. Another is to be used as a simple guard dog. They are not previously trained these ways, due to many factors," Elaina explains.

"They can be trained to protect a specific person? Then why do you not have one? I would assume a caring, loving father such as yours would insist on one following you around at all times," Kyra says slyly.

"Because he insists there is more value in selling them," Elaina says.

"I suppose. But value isn't only in gold pieces," Kyra states. Leo and Nanna's mother walk back in, with Lord Dager and the servants with food following close behind.

"It would appear that the servants here did not understand how to cook with Myratcha," Leo explains.

"Ah, well, here's the food. Let's dig in," Kyra says.


	19. 19 - Loki

Dear Nevvy, you left a review that blew my mind. You feel like you're reading the script to an HBO drama? Seriously? Awesome! I was so excited to read your review. Thank you! I'm glad you (and everyone) checked it out. I've put in more energy into this than my normal fanfictions, and and glad it is showing through. And the good stuff hasn't even been posted yet!

As always, thanks everyone for reading/following/reviewing!

* * *

"This is ridiculous," Loki spits.

"This is the Mad Hatter," Lord Kvasir points out, looking at the cake sitting in the display case. "It's uncommon, but this isn't the first time she leaves the note to say she already _stole_ something."

"How many people walked past this before realizing what it was? This has been here all day. Why so public?!" Loki demands.

"The museum curator… there was supposed to be a different one brought in, but this one remarkably had the proper paper work to be the next exhibit. They don't question things often. It was one of my off duty soldiers taking his family here that alerted me," Kvasir shakes his head. "But you're right. Why so public? The newspaper started an article the new exhibit, thinking this was it as well. We managed to stop the circulation before it got too far out. But there will be talk. Now the museum has to put out an apology—"

"None of that matters," Loki scoffs.

"Some of it does," Lord Kvasir retorts. "Then there's this _cake_. Why a cake? She normally leaves useful things behind. What, is she thanking us for the book she stole?"

"No clue," Loki scoffs. He told Lord Kvasir that he had put the book in a special box and the Mad Hatter escaped with it. Nothing about the questioning or the particulars of the fight.

"Perhaps you could safely inspect it, your grace?" Lord Kvasir asks. Loki holds out his hand to examine it.

"It's just a normal cake. No poison, no magic, no nothing," Loki sighs, disappointed.

"What should we do with it?" Lord Kvasir asks.

"Dispose of it however you wish. It's safe to eat, though why would you eat any gift from her…" an idea strikes Loki. "Why can't she be public?"

"Your grace?" Lord Kvasir asks.

"Have you ever tried using her public hints like this to draw her out?" Loki clarifies.

"No, because that would entice copy-cats," Lord Kvasir states.

"Of course, and we would arrest them," Loki points out.

"What would be the point, your grace?" Lord Kvasir asks.

"She has a heart," Loki states. "She saved your nephew. How many relatively innocent people will she allow to be arrested in her name?"

"That's mad… and it might just work to capture the _Mad Hatter_," Lord Kvasir gleefully agrees. Loki casts a spell on the cake.

"It won't rot, have the museum run with this and the newspaper as well. Let the gossip run. Let's see if we can fan the flames hot enough for her to come out," Loki smirks.

With the plan set in motion, all he can do is wait.

* * *

Loki makes his daily stop in the stables, feeding Sleipnir from a bottle. He can't understand what about the horse _compels_ him. Bravossi said it is a side effect of Soul Binding, but Loki feels like it is a much stronger emotion.

"He's beautiful," a soft voice compliments. Loki had buried his face in Sleipnir's dark mane, and he stumbles back upon hearing his mother.

"Thank you… his name is Sleipnir," Loki responds, unsure of what Frigga is doing here. Or how much he wants to tell her. Learning about Soul Binding makes him want to share it with his confidant, magic teacher, and mother; but knowing he would have to expose his source and upset his life in ways he doesn't want is one of the few things stopping him.

"I heard about him when they brought him in," Frigga says. Apparently she bothers looking at the reports and didn't have the beast killed. "He was an experiment of a necromancer, correct?"

"Correct," Loki says, still not letting go of Sleipnir's mane.

"He was dying… Reina told me you used some sort of magic to help him. She won't tell me what though. She doesn't understand much about magic," Frigga says. _Oh how wrong you are_, Loki thinks. Frigga gives him a look. "Or does she?"

"I'm not sure what you're implying mother," Loki says. She slowly raises a hand for Sleipnir to sniff. Deciding he likes her, he starts nibbling at her hand. Her other one goes to brush out his mane.

"She doesn't understand the magic of asgard, so it is harder for her to explain," Frigga stares at Sleipnir. "But there are older, more ancient kinds of magic out there. _Wild Magic_. She won't claim any sort of magic, but I know her and her husband and children have it. It's why we have such well trained horses. And, to think, she's going to go get some more fire horses form Drog'nira. A land famous for its wild magic.

"Why did you authorize such a thing? I'm just curious what interest my son has suddenly taken in horses," Frigga says calmly, watching him happily.

"I had just heard about Sleipnir and wanted to see him for myself… I kind of ended up becoming his mother," Loki shrugs, acting like it's no big deal.

"So that makes me a horse's grandmother?" Frigga chuckles and even Sleipnir whinnies.

"I suppose," Loki smiles happily.

"I always wondered if you had Wild Magic," Frigga mutters, more to herself than Loki.

"The stable master told me a little about it. Strange stuff, so I've been looking into it," Loki weaves a story. He hates lying to his mother, but he feels he owes her some sort of answer. "I've discovered some scrolls on Soul Spells. Have you ever heard about it?"

"Only in legends…" Frigga thinks on it. "It's said it used to be as popular as Wild Magic, back in their heydays. During your father's father's time—during the reign of King Bor—the last masters of Soul Spells were disbanded."

"The Order of Mitilith," Loki whispers.

"Yes, have you read about them?" Frigga asks.

"No, I only saw a mention. I figured they were just another cult—something those times were famous for," Loki shrugs.

"Yes, they were. I've had an interesting read, learning about them. I'll lend you the books I have," Frigga smiles. "They were an interesting people. They followed a specific bloodline, but they considered their people to be family. And they all took vows to protect the Royal Family of Asgard. Bor disbanded them during a time of peace, asking that they accept the peace and rest they worked so hard for. It's said they even had an army of the dead."

"The Order doesn't stay dead," Loki realizes what Bravossi meant.

"Something like that," Frigga agrees. "He is such a beauty… that beauty has distracted me." She reaches into her pocket and hands him an envelope. "We're having another ball in yours and Thor's honor."

"It's barely even been a month since the last," Loki sighs. "Thank you for informing me mother."

"Just like any good mother, I want the best for my son," Frigga puts a comforting hand on his arm. "Thank you for being such a good sport." He has no choice but to attend now, even though he has already narrowed down his list.

* * *

At his first chance of escaping a gaggle of women who bombard him and Thor on the main stairs, he slips over to the gaggle of men surrounding Angrbooda. He spends some time with her on his arm, kind of as a way to mark her. Listening to the conversation, he realizes none of these men would go after her romantically so his efforts are in vain. He's not sure if they would stay away due to fear or respect. It's a little of both.

Politely, he meets with Sigyn, who is on Dayne's arm.

"Loki!" Sigyn says excitedly.

"Sigyn, my beautiful lady," Loki greets, kissing her rings. "It's a pleasure to see you tonight."

"A pleasure to see you as well," Sigyn replies. "Do you remember the dance instructor, Dayne?" The dance teacher bows appropriately. Unintentionally, Loki gets a look down his tunic. If he didn't know what he was looking for, he wouldn't have seen the tattoo of a lavender petal.

To be one step ahead of Bravossi makes him happy.

"Yes, it is wonderful to see you again Dayne," Loki nods in response.

"The honor is mine, your grace," Dayne compliments. Music starts up again.

"Oh, you did request the orchestra to play a few song. This is one…" Sigyn recognizes the music.

"Take every chance you can to practice," Dayne kindly says. "There will be more chances tonight, if you would like to dance with Prince Loki this time."

"I would be honored," Loki extends his arm to Sigyn.

"Me as well," Sigyn accepts and Loki leads her out to the dance floor.

"How have you enjoyed practicing for the play?" Loki asks.

"Its hard work, but I love it. The people at the production house… it truly is amazing. I am lucky to have had teachers such as Rym the Gallant and Old Klie," Sigyn smiles happily.

"Oh?" Loki raises an eyebrow. Rym the Gallant is so old, there was a rumor that he died. He retired a few hundred years ago from production. For him to be helping Sigyn, that leaves Loki suspicious. Old Klie is someone he has never heard of. "What about Dayne and Elaina?"

"Elaina introduced me to the basic footwork," Sigyn says. "But apparently I took really well to that and she graduated me to a new teacher within the week. Dayne personally looks over my practice at the studio."

"Any particular reason why?" Loki asks curiously. The tattoo he saw slightly worries him. He isn't sure if Dayne is guarding Sigyn or if the Mad Hatter simply is not involved.

"Ashley said he takes most new students under his wing for their first performance," Sigyn shrugs, and then blushes. "But Rachel says he's smitten with me."

"At least he knows where to concede," Loki states. Sigyn pouts.

"You have a reputation for ruining relationships that aren't to the benefit of the kingdom. Many would say not to _your_ benefit. Please don't ruin this one. I'm succeeding in a way I never dreamed of before," Sigyn calls him out, much to his surprise. She has a reputation for being meek and quite.

"Of course not," Loki promises.

"Thank you, your grace," Sigyn smiles at him in a way that warms his soul. She also has a reputation for being hard to say no to, and he understands that now. The song finishes. "Thank you for the dance, your grace."

"It was my pleasure," Loki kisses her rings again.

"You two were beautiful out there," Dayne says, holding a cake.

"Is that death by chocolate?" Sigyn's eyes light up.

"Yes, I asked Elaina for your favorite," Dayne says, letting Loki know where he needs to go next. He goes to the dessert table, and finds floating plates again. Elaina is engrossed in choosing another cake, so he sneaks up behind her.

"You really have a sweet tooth, don't you Elaina?" Loki whispers in her ear. Shocked by his sudden approach, and close proximity, she jumps.

"I thought you would have learned that by now, your grace," Elaina replies. "Having fun?"

"As much as I can, so many beautiful women are here tonight," Loki teases.

"Yes, there is a fair amount, many with more beauty than me," Elaina replies.

"Your point?" Loki asks, surprised she keeps doing this.

"They're more qualified than I," Elaina states simply.

"I may not be looking for such qualifications," Loki replies only to be laughed at.

"What qualifications are you looking for then?" Elaina asks shyly.

"Looks mean little, if their character is shown through their empty heart," Loki says poetically.

"What's your favorite?" Elaina asks after a moment of relative silence.

"This one looks enticing," Loki points to one on her floating plates.

"It is yours to take, your grace," Elaina curtseys.

"Of course it is," Loki teases as he does just that.

"How does it taste?" Elaina asks.

"Wonderful," Loki replies. A servant runs up to them.

"Your grace, excuse the interruption, but the Mad Hatter—" Loki glaring at the messenger causes him to miss Elaina's glare, "—just broke into Her Majesty's dressing rooms and stole some jewelry. They're running out Her gardens."

"Understood. Elaina, please exu…" Loki looks around for the smaller woman and not finding her. Not truly caring where she went, he teleports to the gardens. Standing on the gate leading out, he looks over the area and finds someone running straight for him. Jumping down on the person, he easily pins them to the ground as the jewelry flies everywhere.

"You dare steal from _my mother_?" Loki hisses, only to realize he is holding a man underneath of him. He remembers when he caught the Mad Hatter in the clock tower, it was certainly a woman.

"So there _is_ more than one of you," Loki states as he sends a message and waits for the guards to show up. Unfortunately for him, the man releases a blast of magic that throws Loki against the gate. The man holds his hands out, the magic energy aimed at Loki. Loki's magical guard goes up, wondering just how many tricks the Mad Hatter has.

To both of their surprise, a figure phases through the stone underneath the Mad Hatter and a sharp heeled shoe comes in contact with his chin, throwing him back. A woman with brilliant silver hair, in a black-accented-in-emerald dress stands between Loki and his opponent. She looks over her shoulder at Loki.

"You liked the cake I gave you so much you made it public?" the Mad Hatter asks.

"Who are you?" Loki demands.

"The real one," she says as she turns to the fake as he charges her. Her sharp heel collides with his chest, throwing him back. He tries again, only for her to summon her golden chain out of the symbol on her wrist.

With a yank of her arm, the Mad Hatter manages to crash the fake into a fountain, and it collapses. She swears as the water spills out and heads for the jewelry. Quickly, she picks everything up.

She turns to Loki, holding out the jewelry.

"Your grace, even if you don't believe me, at least hear me out. I will never do anything to hurt the Royal Family. If any crimes occur against you in my name, rest assured I will be there to stop them. Also, there is only one of me, no matter how many ways I dress up," the Mad Hatter says. "Now take your mother's jewelry."

He tentatively walks over and puts his hands around hers, accepting the jewelry. The trick is on her because he grabs her wrists as he teleports the jewelry away.

"You're under arrest," Loki smirks, as their hands glow green with his magic. "As long as I'm holding you, you can't phase away."

"You would be right, if you bothered to read what I left you. Look at this though. You're holding my hands after all," he can almost hear her smile behind that mask. "I see you decided to court me properly after all."

"You think more highly of yourself than you should," Loki warns.

"How do my qualifications stack up against my competition?" she perks.

"You have none," Loki insults.

"I thought you were looking for character," she smirks at him. He gets hit with a real big sense of déjà vu.

"You know nothing of what you talk about," he snarls at her. He doesn't miss her shoulders fall, the sadness evident. He is about to make another snide remark when the guard shows up with Kvasir leading them.

"Congratulations your Grace! You caught her!" Lord Kvasir congratulates.

"I've placed a spell on her. As long as I'm holding her, she can't phase away without," Loki instructs.

"I only came to stop the fake," she points to the still unconscious man.

"I'll take you to the dungeons," Loki roughly pulls her along. A guard takes the fake.

"What? Want to make Kyra… oh, no she's not yours… Amora jealous?" the Mad Hatter teases as she is pulled down the path toward the dungeons. "Or would she get jealous? Considering her reputation." The only sign that shows Loki is listening is his grip tightens at that accusation. "Certainly that lesser girl would get jealous. They're all like that." No response. "Would the giantess?" Again, no response. "Seriously, you were so talkative earlier… does Lydia got your tongue?"

"What?" Loki looks at her suspiciously. They've just entered the well-lit hallway to the dungeons.

"You know, Lydia is a popular cat's name?" she teases. "Hey, I pulled a word out of you."

"And it will be the last," Loki scoffs and yanks her arm so she stumbles a bit.

"Technically that was six more," she ribs.

"Shut up," Lord Kvasir scoffs at her.

"Ignore her. It's just a distraction," Loki jeers.

"From what?" Lord Kvasir goes tense. Loki stops and thinks for a second. What is hiding in plain sight?

"This," Loki reaches for her mask. Every flame flickers out, leaving everything dark. He holds the mask, waiting for the light. Suddenly he can't feel anything in his other hand. She phased right through him. She weaves around him, her warm, soft chest pressing against his back as she leans close to his ear.

"Keep it," she whispers and vanishes. Someone finally manages to get a flame started again. The hall's magic flames start again, though nowhere near as strong as they were.

"What happened?" Lord Kvasir asks, trying not to be upset at the prince.

"Tell me, Lord Kvasir, have you heard of Wild Magic? Of Soul Spells?" Loki asks, his voice icy.

"It's a myth," Lord Kvasir replies, worried.

"Apparently it is different from what we call common magic, and can get around ours," Loki states darkly.

"How can that be? Magic is magic," Lord Kvasir asks in awe.

"If daggers and swords are both blades, why do we have two different names?" Loki leaves that with him before teleporting away.


	20. 20 - The Dragon Lord & Loki

Thank you nevvy and angel897 for reviewing!

As always, thanks for reading/following/reviewing!

* * *

The dark haired man sits at his desk, idly swirling his ale in one hand. His other holds a book. This is no simple book. This particular page he has open has many dots and lines covering it. Without the aid of a quill, they move around, constantly shifting as they follow someone.

Currently, a dark haired man is following a prince. This prince has come up on his radar lately; sticking his nose in places it doesn't belong.

The book snaps shut when a shadow passes over his window. Momentarily, a person becomes noticeable in the corner of the room. The figure is kneeling, with long white hair drooping across their vision. It is quite the contrast to their fitted leather outfit, covering every inch of skin except from their eyes up. The only other accessories worn is a snake around their neck and shackles on his wrists and ankles, but they're not connected to anything.

"What have you found, Jormungand?" the sitting man asks.

"The ssspell wasss cass-t by sssomeone outssside the hall," the hiss comes from the snake wrapped around Jormungand's neck. "It tass-t like Vanheim. Pure Vanaheim blood."

"There aren't very many with that. You have helped us locate _his_ friend," the sitting man says.

"Of course. I unwillingly ssserve my massster," the snake hisses.

"As long as you are in my binds, I am your master," the sitting man replies nonchalantly. "Go hunt your new prey."

The silver haired man vanishes.

The sitting man opens his book and follows the prince again. He later dons a cloak and wanders through the city as a shadow. He arrives at his destination, dons a mask and his dragon armor, and descends into his den. The thieves' den calms as they notice him step into the middle of the stage.

"My children," the Dragon Lord greets. The room goes silent. "Welcome to another night of deception and dissent. We thank the First Thief for our fortune. We are those who oppose this ruling, causing trouble for them. Odin's forces wear thin, as does his patients. The rebellion is strong as he grows weaker."

The room bursts into cheering and laughter.

He continues to praise them, telling them how much good their evil does against Odin. They share plans of rebellion, sharing the glory in their recent heists. After making his way through his folk, he finds his third in command in a back room with some whores. The moment they see the Dragon Lord, they leave.

"Ah, welcome your grace," Magyr sleazily says, half drunk on the atmosphere, half drunk.

"Not yet, but I will be," the Dragon Lord sits down. "How has production come?"

"Good, good. My daughter's new friends seem to help have helped her. The designs hold twice the weapons," Magyr says, taking another swig of ale.

"And these friends, they suspect nothing?" the Dragon Lord asks.

"How could they? I've trained that wrench to be the meekest person ever," Magyr laughs. He waves to a pile of books. "She gives me a full report every time she leaves the house."

"The lesser prince nearly captured the Mad Hatter last night," the Dragon Lord opens one of those books.

"That damn thief is still bugging the Spy Master?" Magyr chuckles. "Is that why the prince is involved?"

"To distract him from our efforts," the Dragon Lord says nonchalantly. "He did manage to secure her mask last night. He won't let anyone else take a look at it though."

"Selfish, obsessive brat," Magyr chides. "Surely that won't stop you from getting any information about the mask?"

"Strangely enough, it has," the Dragon Lord states, his irritation showing as he slams that book and picks up another.

"How? You have little birds everywhere," Magyr scowls.

"That new thrall the Prince has taken is an odd one," the Dragon Lord puts the book down. "His name is Bravossi. Was captured under the name Silver Stix. As far as we can tell, he has no magic. Though Prince Thor's servants claim the thrall gave a magic book to Prince Loki. Prince Loki seems to have learned about Soul Spells and Wild Magic from it."

"That bullshit stuff my whore of a wife believed in before I corrected that?" Magyr laughs. "There are legends everywhere. So some semi-famous thief gave Prince Loki a book about it. Why can't you get information about the mask?"

"Bravossi doesn't talk to my birds," the Dragon Lord admits. "It's strange. It's like he knows who they are and plays dumb."

"Couldn't he just be dumb?" Magyr asks.

"According to my book, he was there when Mance the Vengeful was killed," the Dragon Lord points out. "The Vengeful was drowned. But completely dry. And there wasn't any extra water in his system. Nor any extra water in the room. The weather was particularly wet that afternoon. Mance the Vengeful was meant to kill Kyra, when she moved into the palace. Doesn't he sound like Storm Slayer?"

"Isn't Storm Slayer dead?" Magyr asks.

"He was beheaded 37 years ago. This Bravossi may be a copy-cat," the Dragon Lord states.

"So?" Magyr asks stupidly.

"The last Storm Slayer used Soul Spells. This Bravossi could be his kid. He's protecting the prince," the Dragon Lord explains. "Soul Spells are common place in the Order of Mitilith. In fact, some people claim it is the only magic they use. You remember them, don't you?"

"Of course. My whore of a wife was fucking one of them, made the mistake of getting pregnant, and her family rushed her to marry me to cover up a scandal," Magyr scoffs. "My daughter hasn't shown any signs of Soul Magic or whatever it's called."

"You only see what that child and my spy Jormungand tells us…" the Dragon Lord waves to the books. "She neglected to include a certain bit of info."

"What bit?" Magyr sits up a bit, frustrated.

"Impressions of others," the Dragon Lord states.

"Impressions?" Magyr asks.

"You're the money behind the operation, not a parrot," the Dragon Lord snaps. "You never trained her to include other people's impressions of her."

"Even if she does her job, she'll get punished for excluding information," Magyr scoffs. "What has you suspect her?"

"Some birds say Lady Amora is over impressed with your daughter's potions," the Dragon Lord says. "That her level of potion making is more _advanced_ then she lets on. Of course, anything new can seem that way. But Lady Amora is a master at this stuff. Her impression weighs heavily on my mind."

"I'll beat the truth out of the _child_," Magyr scoffs.

"A truth she can't see?" the Dragon Lord prods. "That doesn't seem fair."

"She's _his_," Magyr says sourly. "Fairness was stolen from her by the very nature of her of her conception."

"That's what I like about you. Revenge is your specialty," the Dragon Lord compliments.

* * *

Loki remains on his couch in the moonlight, looking at the same mask he has been examining for the last few days. The mask has no prints, no magic residual, and no way for him to figure out the face or name of the person underneath. Currently, the mask is floating in front of him.

He stares into the glass covering the eyes. It's simple glass, nothing special. Nothing is special about the wood of the mask. It's common oak. The paint is different. He's done everything magically that won't destroy it. If he wanted to he would hand it over to Amora to figure out, but a little sentiment stops him.

That and the intricate carvings on the back are so rare he hasn't been able to match them. He's checked through everything, the library, and the ancient parts of the library. His only other options are to ask his mother or the Priestesses to the Norns. Or Bravossi.

"Bravossi?" Loki calls.

"What?" comes the groan from the servant's room.

"You won't tell me a name?" Loki asks, getting up.

"Not her name," Bravossi says sleepily. Loki goes and kneels next to him, gently placing a hand on his shoulder.

"Not even to grant your favorite wish," Loki whispers seductively near his ear. Bravossi rolls his eyes and gets comfortable again.

"You're missing my point," Bravossi mutters. Loki sighs, not liking that answer. He brushes a lock of long, auburn hair behind Bravossi's pointed ear as he follows his original plan.

Loki's tongue isn't the only thing talented, his hands are also. He gently runs a hand down Bravossi's neck, massaging the muscles along the way. He knows he's living up to his reputation when he pulls a sleepy moan out of Bravossi.

"I remember your point," Loki whispers into Bravossi's slightly pointed Vanaheim ear. "Kindness, gentleness, you want _me_."

"Yeah, but what do you want?" without warning Bravossi's words chill Loki. The raven haired man stops for a moment, really looking at Bravossi. He only realizes how long he's thinking about the answer when he sees that Bravossi is asleep again.

Unsure of how to put his racing thoughts into words, he continues to massage Bravossi's bare shoulders. As his hands brush against the collar, he recalls how much Bravossi enjoys being a thrall.

_What do I want? It's such a simple phrase. Why have I stopped thinking?_ Loki ponders, unsure of where the original shock came from. Giving up on his original plan, simply because he cannot shake that shock, he looks back to the couch. The moonlight hits the glass eyes of the mask.

"How does the mask work?" Loki asks.

"Say your soul name into it," Bravossi mutters.

"How do I find that out?" Loki asks.

"Talk to Tysh," Bravossi replies.

* * *

"Oh, tut," the old crone whacks a servant's hand with a piece of straw as she waddles past some cooking pots. "It's supposed to _simmer_, not _melt_."

"Yes Tysh," the servants reply, even the ones she wasn't talking to. Loki follows her as she meanders about the kitchen, gently yet rudely correcting them all. When Loki reminds her of his existence, she says: "Why do you think your food is perfection, ya grace? You can't rush perfection and it needs to be fixed every time I see it. I won't let bad food leave my halls, I tell ya. Your father may be king outside my halls, but down here, I'm the only authority that matters to these folk. Mark my words, boy, mark them I tell ya."

"Considered them marked," Loki replies. Once Bravossi actually woke up for the day, he warned Loki about Tysh's personality and begged him not to get mad at her. She would never truly demean him or ask for much. Even though he feels anger at her words, her willful ignorance of what happens outside her halls, he passes her off as amusing. What he wants is worth a little time not upsetting the head cook.

"Was I talking to you, boy? I mean Jacks. The butcher's boy never cuts the right meats, so I send them back!" Tysh waves a hand at some kid they just passed. He certainly has noticed how she knows the name of every person here, even the newest hires.

Eventually, they make it to her office, only for Loki to discover it's a library of recipe books. All are damaged with flour, food stains, tears and the like. They make it to the back where there is an area cut into the wall, housing her bed and a dresser. She jumps up on the dresser. This action pulls up her skirt a little, and he easily spots the lavender-petal tattoo. If he didn't know what it was, he would never have bothered with it.

"Now stop looking at the fourth important thing that ever happened to me and say your reasons to my face. Why would a prince be in the kitchen, asking for a private word? Do I get to discover your reputations for myself? Know what? I decided I will. My feet ache. You're good with your hands. Do something about it," Tysh bosses around and Loki almost refuses.

Taking a calming breath, he kneels in front of her, helps her sandals off, and starts massaging her feet.

"How is being Soul Bound to the Mad Hatter the fourth thing?" Loki asks.

"The _Mad Hatter_? Is that what she's calling herself these days?" Tysh laughs and Loki swears for a moment he's going to get her real name. "Back in my day she went by Feather Heart the Bard! And then she was a mercenary named Yang, with that sister of hers Yin. And then there was Crescent, Half, and Full when you added that brother. And then it was Child of Song, but as an assassin, not a bard. Poor child has carried so many names over her life I'm sore afraid she's forgotten her own. Fortunately you can't forget your Soul Name."

"I came to ask about Soul Names," Loki interrupts.

"I said your hands, not tongue!" Tysh scoffs. "You asked a question, I'mma gonna answer. Fourth. Because the best three things are my children. Do you have children? Oh, what am I saying? I've already forgotten you're that shady princely character. You don't have any heirs or natural borns. What about bastards to hide from prying eye?"

"No," Loki answers when he realizes he does want to talk this time.

"Pity. A man should know his children before they grow too old," Tysh says.

"I don't have children," Loki states perplexed.

"Yeah, and I'm the queen," Tysh scoffs. Loki stops in surprise. "Who said you could stop your magic hands?"

"What did you mean?"

"I mean I want my massage."

"Before that."

"You've got Soul Children, mark my words. Three of them, just like me… well, no. Mine are natural. And you've got a fourth, now that I look. Brilliant by the looks of them. Although how a _gickmarl_ can be brilliant is beyond reason."

"A gickmarl?"

"The one the horse lord stays with."

"Sleipnir?"

"Yes, that one."

"Gickmarls are myths like trolls."

"We're myths to humans."

"…"

"Wanna know about that rest?"

"I suppose…"

"Jormungand. Poor child had his voice ripped out and given to a pet. That's what they say. Do you know what happened?"

"No…?"

"His soul was cut in half. Half remains in his body. Half in the snake. All he's had to eat is his anger and madness. He truly is mad, just like his mother. He will eat the world, mark my words. Or die by his uncle's hand."

"Who is his mother?"

"Avery."

"Who is that?"

"You know her."

"A servant?"

"What? Are you playing dumb? You said her new name."

"…_the Mad Hatter_?!"

"That one. Avery is her Soul Name, though she treats it worse than dirt. And that's bad. You don't have to be reverent about your Soul Name, but you have to respect it in the least. She treats it like the name she was born under, just another mask of hers. Anyway, you won't find her. She's right under your nose and you'll never see her until she removes that mask on her own free will. And not a second sooner."

"You said I have another child?"

"It's really her son, not yours. She raised him, though he's your Soul Child. Let's see…. what was his name again? Fenrir."

"The direwolf of legend?"

"Depends on who's telling the legend."

"And the last son?"

"That's it. But you've got a daughter. Fairest maiden in all of death."

"Death?"

"Yes. Her kingdom is Helheim."

"I'm the father of the queen of Helheim?"

"Don't give me that look. In _soul_, not _blood_… Ragnarok."

"Pardon?"

"Ragnarok. That's your Soul Name."

"What?" Loki gapes at her.

"Don't make me repeat myself. You heard me perfectly clear," Tysh says.

Loki continues to gape at her. Ragnarok means _apocalypse_ in the Old Asier Tongue. Her calling him the apocalypse overshadows him remembering Hela came to them to ask for her place back on the council.

"What? With monsters as Soul Children did you think you would be any different?"

"How does one end up with Soul Children?"

"Depends. All energy is recycled. No new stuff is created. And it can't be destroyed. As we grow we take in and expel energy. That somehow connects us to people."

"I've never met my Soul Children."

"Hush, hush, I'm getting there. The gickmarl you shoved energy into. The poor snake watches you, under someone else's power. Hela chose you. Fenrir chooses pack, so technically you're pack, not a father."

"How important is a Soul Name?" Loki asks, concerned. He came in here, not willing to put much belief in her, but he can't shake it.

"Not at all. Or very important. I depends on how you go about looking at it. You see, my Soul Name _is_ Tysh. For some it is sacred. For others it is dirt. Soul Spells can bind using Soul Names if you let them. You see, the more sacred the name is held, the more it can be used against you. Don't do what Avery has done, disrespecting the name. It will kill her one day. Though I understand why. She would rather use the name her mother gave her at birth as a mask to play people. She has so many masks."

"What's that name?"

"Who knows?"

"That's why I'm asking."

"Well I'm telling ya I've never known. She goes by so many, she may have told me at one point but it matters not."

"And yet you remember her Soul Name?"

"Of course. My individual soul spell _is _being able to see soul names. Of course, when you Soul Bind you remember the Soul Name of the person who bound you. Tell me the name her mother gave her and I would never be able to pick her out. But I can tell you where Avery is right this second. She's here at the castle. West wing… surrounded by friends who love her. But not so much as you will."

"Me?" Loki does not like being assigned love.

"You're the father of three of her Soul Children, and the mother to one. That's the magic all around us saying you two have business together. You'll be friends in the very least, you're destined to meet. I hope she lets you meet them. Fenrir is my favorite. Fenrir loves his pack. He reminds me a lot of Bara."

"Who's Bara?" Loki will later regret asking that because it launches her into an hour long spiel about her blood children.

* * *

Loki plops down on his couch, nursing a glass of something strong.

"Don't say I didn't warn you," Bravossi hands over the lists.

"That woman can talk," Loki mutters. "And see straight into your soul."

"Yes, those are her talents. Talking and Soul Searching," Bravossi shrugs. Loki commands him to take off his boots and massage his feet and legs.

"So will you not tell me her name is Avery or the name her mother gave her?" Loki glares.

"Everyone who's bound to her knows her Soul Name is Avery. It's the other that could get her in trouble," Bravossi says, finally getting a boot off.

"You'll never tell me that one?" Loki asks.

"You have to learn it first before I say it," Bravossi struggles with the other boot.

"And yet it was so easy for Tysh to tell me everything," Loki sighs, sitting back and relaxing once his feet are free.

"Anything else good?" Bravossi asks.

"Do you have Soul Children?" Loki asks.

"Yes," Bravossi says. "Fenrir."

"Apparently we're both his pack," Loki looks at him doubtfully.

"And so are twenty other men and women," Bravossi shrugs. " He would make Lady Sif one if she ever met him again. He liked her a lot. He loves collecting pack. Any others?"

"Have you ever heard of Jormungand?" Loki asks. Bravossi looks at him with a mix of fear, shock, pity and curiosity.

"He's a mercenary currently called Moon's Fang," Bravossi hesitantly shares. Loki recognizes that name, sitting up straighter. Moon's Fang is wanted for the murder of 1,000 commoners. Enough that it was brought up in one of the king's council meetings and they've placed a sizable bounty on him.

"You're joking," Loki denies.

"I wish I were," Bravossi goes back to the massage. "He's your Soul Child too?"

"Yes… You too?" Loki asks.

"No. The Mad Hatter… Avery's his mother. By blood as well, but not in the way you think. You see, she's dabbled in the Dark Arts. There are Dark Arts of Wild Magic. She created him using that. He's a product much like Sleipnir," Bravossi explains.

"Tysh said Sleipner is a gickmarl," Loki states. Bravossi chuckles.

"One and the same," Bravossi smiles. "The stories parents tell their children at night to make them afraid never say where the gickmarl come from. Only that they're as scary as trolls and dragons. Dragons are actually attempts at chimera. Trolls are people who sickness has been experimented on them. Gickmarl are products of necromancy."

"And Jormungand is a gickmarl?" Loki asks in disbelief.

"No, closer to a chimera. Avery was trying to put her favorite pet snake's soul in a boy. She succeeded, but ended up tearing the souls in half and so the human and snake have half a soul that not theirs. Sad, really. She half succeeded," Bravossi sighs.

"I'd call that succeeding twice over. She saved the man," Loki points out.

"She was trying to move everything and failed. Call it what you want, her goal was not accomplished," Bravossi says. A moment of silence goes by. "I would have guessed you have a Soul Daughter. Do you?"

"Hela of Helheim," Loki states, carefully judging the reaction. Bravossi continues massaging for a moment as if he wasn't paying attention. He stops suddenly and starts laughing. "What?"

"I know your Soul Name," Bravossi tries to stop laughing.

"How?" Loki demands.

"An old Mitilith legend," Bravossi explains. "The father of the snake mistake, the alpha of his pack, and the father of our queen shall be named Ragnorak. Many times he shall bring the end. Many sing of his name, but irreverently. For what is an end, but a beginning?"

"So you're telling me that children's story about Ragnorak is true?" Loki asks in disbelief.

"Based on truth, sure, but not true. People think it means apocalypse, but that's bullshit. I've talked to a dead of the Old Aseir, who speak that language. It means 'peace-bringer'," Bravossi goes back to the massage.

"So I'm not destined to end the world?" Loki asks, a note of hope unbidden in his voice.

"What is the end of a world but the beginning of the next?" Bravossi receives a glare. "I have no clue. But this is the future we're talking about. It is not set in stone, nor is it unchangeable. Sure, legends were designed eons ago and they remain as true as they can, but now you know. You know about the truth. The Old Asier only wrote the legends if you either wanted to follow through or not. If you never knew about this, if I never came into your service, would you strive to change your future?"

"No," Loki replies.

"Good," Bravossi nods. "Why bother anyway? I mean, taking a throne is only the end of one person's reign, and the start of another, but neither discredits the other."

"You're saying I'm meant for a throne?" Loki eyes him suspiciously. Odin's voice from his childhood echoes the sentiment. He doesn't miss Bravossi hesitate.

"You are a prince," Bravossi shrugs. "I meant it as a metaphor, but hey, if you want to think that way you will. Nothing I say will lead you down one path or another."

"Do you really think I could have a throne?" Loki asks.

"That is for you to decide," Bravossi replies. After a moment of Loki looking hopeful, Bravossi points to the Mad Hatter's mask. "Aren't you going to say your Soul Name into it?"

"Go away," Loki says. Bravossi smirks and walks out.

Loki holds the mask in his hands, and staring the ominous glass eyes wondering what will happen. Taking a steading breath and turns it around.

"Ragnorok," Loki says. Nothing happens. Loki puts it on and waits. "Ragnorok."

* * *

"Ow…" Loki groans, trying to sit up. It looks like he landed in something wet and sticky. It takes him a moment to realize he is in some sort of swamp. "Weird."

"You're telling me. The younger prince of Asgard falling out of the sky basically into my lap. What the hell are you doing?" Avery asks. She stands there, as if they're not in a swamp. She's wearing hunting shorts and a cropped top, with war paint on various parts of her body. Her red hair is tied back in a braid.

"Trying to use your mask," Loki states.

"So, you discovered your Soul Name from Tysh. Are you happy with it?" Avery asks.

"Who can be happy with Ragnorok?" Loki asks. "Where are we?"

"Inside the mask when you don't put up barriers. Honestly, I thought I taught you how," Avery sighs. "Come on, let's get you back to reality."


End file.
